He wants nothing from anybody.

He needs no one; he follows no one--except me.

Yes, he follows--he loves me.
She watched her husband till he almost viciously thrust aside the bushes staying his progress, and broke into the space by the pear-tree where Carnac sat with palette and brush, gazing at the distant roofs on which the sun was leaving its last kiss.
Carnac got to his feet with a smile, and with a courage in his eye equal to that which had ever been in his father's face--in the face of John Grier.

It was strange that the other's presence troubled him, that even as a small child, to be in the same room for any length of time vexed him.

Much of that had passed away.