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‘Thank you； doctor； ’he said； in his strange slow voice。 ‘But it's not important。 Everyone laughs at me。 I understand that。 ’
I looked at him sadly。 In his one good hand； his left hand； he had the little picture of his mother。 He looked at the picture for a minute； and then put it by a flower on the table。 A tear ran out of his eye and down the skin of his enormous； ugly face。
‘Dr Treves； ’he said； slowly。 ‘You and the nurses arevery kind； and I'm very happy here。 Thank you very much。 But…I know I can't stay here long； and…I would like to live in a lighthouse； after the hospital； please。 A lighthouse； or a home for blind people。 I think those are the best places for me。
‘What do you mean？’I ashed。 ‘Why？’
He did not look at me。 He put the flower on the picture and looked at it carefully。
‘Lighthouses have sea all round them； don't they？ ’he said。 ‘ Nobody could look at me in a lighthouse； so I would be happy there。 And blind people can see nothing； so they couldn't see me； could they？’
‘But Joseph； ’I said。 ‘This is your home。 You live here now。 You aren't going to leave the hospital。 ’ 28‘Not todsy； perhaps； ’he said。 But soon。 You are a kind man； Dr Treves。 But I can't stay here very long。 I have no money。 ’
I smiled。 ‘Joseph； I said。 ‘This is your home now。 Don't you understand？You can stay here all your life。 ’ Very carefully； I told him about the letter to The Times； and the money。
I don't think he understood at fi
