“You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. Auntie has taken the nails out of my palms, but the scars will always be there. She was slowed down by the icy wind that punctuated itself in screams around houses and trees. ’ This was Leonardo’s philosophy. “But why,” he said in the gasping voice of one subduing an agony, and looked at her from under a pain-wrinkled brow, “why did you not tell me this before?” “I didn’t know—I thought I might be able to control myself.
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