She made no fire, cooked no dinner, drank no tea, and only late in the evening ate a piece of bread.

When she went to bed it occurred to her that her life had never yet been so humiliating, so lonely and void.

During the last years she had become accustomed to live constantly in the expectation of something momentous, something good.

Young people were circling around her, noisy, vigorous, full of life.

Her son's thoughtful and earnest face was always before her, and he seemed to be the master and creator of this thrilling and noble life.