ABSTRACT
I was the battering ram; my looks attest to it. Every freedom was wrung by action: I endured the wails of a frightened mother when I came home disheveled after dark; the rage of an ineffectual father stiffened my shoulders and narrowed my eyes. I tried it all. If I could not be doted upon, I could be worried about; I would get out into the world. Can’t you imagine? Can you blame me? Three years later came my first sister, and then the baby, the darling.
