Three or four times while I was going through their envelopes, I was tempted to get up and make a formal protest to M. Yoshoto. But I had no clear idea just what sort of form my protest would take. I think I was afraid I might get over to his desk only to report, shrilly: ‘My mother’s dead, and I have to live with her charming husband, and nobody in New York speaks French, and there aren’t any chairs in your son’s room. How do you expect me to teach these two crazy people how to draw?’ In the end, being long self-trained in taking despair sitting down, I managed very easily to keep my seat. –J.D. Salinger, Nine Stories