everything was shut up inside me, and at last I began to wonder whether there was anything there at all.

When at nineteen I went to Cambridge I was very unhappy.

Whilst I was there my mother died.

I came back to the little bow-windowed house and lived with my father.

I was quite alone in the world." In spite of myself I had a little movement of impatience.
"How self-centred the man is! As though his case were at all peculiar! Wants shaking up and knocking about." He seemed to know my thought.
"You must think me self-centred! I was.