He laughed at such an absurdity.

Jane would always be his confidante, his intimate.

Even though they lived under different roofs, they would meet and have their long happy jaunts together.

Jane said dolefully that it could only be on Sundays, as their respective working hours would never correspond--"And you haven't given me your Sundays for a year," she added.

Paul slid from the dark theme and, to comfort her, spoke glowingly of the future, when he should have achieved his greatness.