It isn't a question of being happy here; no one is happy, in that old, selfish way, or can be; but he could have been of great use." "Perhaps he was of use in dying.

Who knows?
He may have been trying to silence Lindau." "Oh, Lindau wasn't worth it!" cried Mrs.March.
Miss Vance looked at her as if she did not quite understand.

Then she turned to March.

"He might have been unhappy, as we all are; but I know that his life here would have had a higher happiness than we wish for or aim for." The tears began to run silently down her cheeks.
"He looked strangely happy that day when he left me.

He had hurt himself somehow, and his face was bleeding from a scratch; he kept his handkerchief up; he was pale, but such a light came into his face when he shook hands--ah, I know he went to try and do what I said!" They were all silent, while she dried her eyes and then put her handkerchief back into the pocket from which she had suddenly pulled it, with a series of vivid, young-ladyish gestures, which struck March by their incongruity with the occasion of their talk, and yet by their harmony with the rest of her elegance.