Glyde was watching him, face unreadable. He didn’t speak for a moment, as if he knew Saul had been struck dumb, and then he said, gravely, “You’ve had a hell of a time, haven’t you?” “Others worse,” Saul managed. “That is the most specious form of consolation possible. One can always find someone who has it worse. If I’m having my fingernails torn out with pincers, it is unhelpful to observe that my neighbour has been hanged, drawn, and quartered.”
