But he realised the moment he had spoken that he had said the wrong thing.
"Yes, I know it well--I am old.

And therefore I may stand aside; I have nothing more to do with you.

You only want me to wait on you--the rest is for Miriam." He could not bear it.

Instinctively he realised that he was life to her.
And, after all, she was the chief thing to him, the only supreme thing.
"You know it isn't, mother, you know it isn't!" She was moved to pity by his cry.
"It looks a great deal like it," she said, half putting aside her despair.
"No, mother--I really DON'T love her.

I talk to her, but I want to come home to you." He had taken off his collar and tie, and rose, bare-throated, to go to bed.