Had emergency called for it, he would have fought for them.

They became, after a time, more precious than his own life, and in a vague sort of way at first he began to thank God that the river had not robbed him of everything.
Kent's inclination was not to fight himself into forgetfulness.

He wanted to remember every act, every word, every treasured caress that chained him for all time to the love he had lost.

Marette became more a part of him every day.

Dead in the flesh, she was always at his side, nestling close in the shelter of his arms at night, walking with her hand in his during the day.