"I was raised with the dogs." "It savors of the Greek." Frona did not reply, and they walked on in silence.

Yet Frona wished, though she dared not dare, that she could give her tongue free rein, and from out of the other's bitter knowledge, for her own soul's sake and sanity, draw the pregnant human generalizations which she must possess.

And over her welled a wave of pity and distress; and she felt a discomfort, for she knew not what to say or how to voice her heart.
And when the other's speech broke forth, she hailed it with a great relief.
"Tell me," the woman demanded, half-eagerly, half-masterly, "tell me about yourself.

You are new to the Inside.

Where were you before you came in?
Tell me." So the difficulty was solved, in a way, and Frona talked on about herself, with a successfully feigned girlhood innocence, as though she did not appreciate the other or understand her ill-concealed yearning for that which she might not have, but which was Frona's.
"There is the trail you are trying to connect with." They had rounded the last of the cliffs, and Frona's companion pointed ahead to where the walls receded and wrinkled to a gorge, out of which the sleds drew the firewood across the river to town.