He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained.
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