I am sure that you know I am not thinking of myself.

I may say with truth that I never think of myself." It was true.

She never thought of herself; but he had sometimes wondered what worse things could have happened if she had occasionally done so.
"I know that, Mother," he answered simply.
"I have but one wish in life and that is to see my children happy," she said, with an air of injured dignity which made him feel curiously guilty.
It was the old infallible method, he knew.

She would never yield her point; she would never relax her pressure; she would never admit defeat until he married another woman.
"I want nobody else in your place, Mother.

Goodnight, and try to set your heart on something else." As he undressed a little later he was thinking of Margaret--of her low white brow under the "widow's peak," of her soft blue eyes, of her goodness and gentleness, and of the thrill in her voice when she had made that touching confession.