Roger knew rings, they were his hobby, and this huge yellow solitaire in its new and brilliant setting at once awakened his dislike.

It just fitted the life they were to lead! What life?
As he listened to his daughter he kept wondering if she were so sure.

Had she felt no uneasiness?
She must have, he decided, for all her gay excitement.
One Laura in that smiling face; another Laura deep inside, doubting and uncertain, reaching for her happiness, now elated, now dismayed, exclaiming, "Now at last I'm starting!" Oh, what an ignorant child she was.
He wanted to cry out to her, "You'll _always_ be just starting! You'll never be sure, you'll never be happy, you'll always be just beginning to be! And the happier you are, the more you will feel it is only a start!...
And then-" More and more his spirit withdrew from these two heedless children.

Later on, when Deborah came, he barely noticed her meeting with Sloane.

And through dinner, while they talked of plans for the wedding, the trip abroad, still Roger took no part at all.