"Sometimes he would put the lamp out and lie on the rug on the floor and watch the edges of color that the sea salt and the sand in the wood made in the flame as they burned. On the floor his eyes were even with the line of the burning wood and he could see the line of the flame when it left the wood and it made him both sad and happy. All wood that burned affected him in this way. But burning driftwood did something to him that he could not define. He thought that is was probably wrong to burn it when he was so fond of it; but he felt no guilt about it". p. 11

"Roger turned his head very slowly, saw him, and spoke over his shoulder.
"'Go put the gun away and go to bed.'
"The man stood there with...