Never again so long as he lived could he be natural.

His mind was clouded.

His eye and ear henceforth must register impressions of nature, but the joy of them had fled.
Still, as he sat there with a foreboding of more and darker work ahead of him there was yet a strange sweetness left to him, and it lay in thought of Jennie.

The pressure of her cold little hands lingered in his.

He did not think of her as a woman, and he did not analyze his feelings.