And all the time she was talking, Stevie, she had her eyes fixed on my face and she stood so close to me I could hear her breathing. A whining voice came from the door asking: --Is that Josephine? The old bustling woman answered cheerily from the fireplace: --No, Ellen, it's Stephen. --Good evening, gentlemen, said the stubble-grown monkeyish face. For the impoverishment of any single people in the world means danger to the well-being of all other peoples.