She had just lost her husband, and the rector's wife was handing out the usual platitudes, and holding forth on the example of Christian fortitude exhibited by a very wealthy lady in the neighbourhood, who had also been recently widowed.

'That's all very well, ma'am,' said my old woman drily, 'but fat sorrow's a deal easier to bear than lean sorrow.' And though it may sound unromantic, it's the raw truth--only very few people are sincere enough to acknowledge it." In the weeks that followed, Patrick seemed to recover a large measure of his accustomed vigour.

He was extraordinarily alert and cheerful--so _alive_ that Sara began to hope Dr.McPherson had been mistaken in his opinion, and that there might yet remain many more good years of the happy comradeship that existed between herself and her guardian.
Such buoyancy appeared incompatible with the imminence of death, and one day, driven by the very human instinct to hear her optimism endorsed, she scoffed a little, tentatively, at the doctor's verdict.
Patrick shook his head.
"No, my dear, he's right," he said decisively.

"But I'm not going to whine about it.

Taken all round, I've found life a very good sort of thing--although"-- reflectively--"I've missed the best it has to offer a man.