only recreation. And she says she can't read any other way. You
needn't listen if you don't want to."

That was all very well in an abstract point of view; but the fact
was, that in practice, the more I didn't want to listen, the more I
heard.

As the evenings were often cool, we sat in our dining-room, and the
partition between this room and the kitchen seemed to have no
influence whatever in arresting sound. So that when I was trying
to read or to reflect, it was by no means exhilarating to my mind
to hear from the next room that:

"The la dy ce sel i a now si zed the weep on and all though the
boor ly vil ly an re tain ed his vy gor ous hold she drew the blade
through his fin gers and hoorl ed it far be hind her dryp ping with
jore."

This sort of thing, kept up for an hour or so at a time, used to
drive me nearly wild. But Euphemia did not mind it. I believe
that she had so delicate a sense of what was proper, that she did
not hear Pomona's private readings.

On one occasion, even Euphemia's influence could scarcely restrain
me from violent interference.

It was our boarder's night out (when he was detained in town by his
business), and Pomona was sitting up to let him in. This was
necessary, for our front-door (or main-hatchway) had no night-
latch, but was fastened by means of a bolt. Euphemia and I used to