The Stranger

I drank the coffee, and then I wanted a cigarette. But I wasn’t sure if I should smoke, under the circumstances—in Mother’s presence. I thought it over; really, it didn’t seem to matter, so I offered the keeper a cigarette, and we both smoked.

Since we’re all going to die, it’s obvious that when and how don’t matter.

Still, I had an idea he looked annoyed, and I said, without thinking: “Sorry, sir, but it’s not my fault, you know.”

I agreed it wasn’t a bad plan; it would punish her, all right.

Every time there’s a death here, they’re in a nervous state for two or three days

It was such a new experience, being a focus of interest; in the ordinary way no one ever paid much attention to me.

I felt as I hadn’t felt for ages. I had a foolish desire to burst into tears. For the first time I’d realized how all these people loathed me.

But, though I mightn’t be so sure about what interested me, I was absolutely sure about what didn’t interest me.

They were so much absorbed in their thoughts that they didn’t know what they were up to

For a moment I had an absurd impression that they had come to sit in judgment on me.