One has to train one’s self not to. The sky beyond was a surreal color of pink that reminded her of the windows she had once been entranced by at the castle chapel, their leaden lines depicting old religious stories and sufferings. " "Of course," rejoined Kneebone, a little maliciously, "but that's easily accounted for. She reflected before answering. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. 9.
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