‘I don’t want to hurt you any more. I will be up with my wife and daughter after lunch. The ordinary research paper, when it is not extravagant theorizing, is apt to be rather sawdusty in texture, and Ann Veronica was delighted to find the same easy and confident luminosity that distinguished his work for the general reader. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. But they did what they could for her. This too shall pass. Too late, alas, to stop the disastrous marriage. Ann Veronica could at the same time ask herself what this queer old gentleman could have meant by speaking to her, and know—know in general terms, at least—what that accosting signified.
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