He was a servant in the house.
He must not forget that.

He had been worse things than this, and still he had not forgotten.

He had felt the blush of shame, yet he had remembered, and white anger had embossed the dull scars; it was impossible that he should forget.
He had grown accustomed, even in this short time, to the window overlooking the sea, and he leaned that late afternoon with his arms resting on the part where the two frames joined and locked.

The sea was blue and gentle breasted.

Flocks of gulls circled the little harbor and land-birds ventured daringly forth.
With what infinite care and patience had he gained this place! What struggles had ensued! Like one of yonder birds he had been blown about, but even with his eyes hunting for this resting.