I would find them a situation, see them perhaps once a week, then less often, and the end was always the same.
They fell back.

I had put the poison to sleep, but it was always there.
It was their everlasting heritage, a gift from father to son, bred in the bone, a part of their blood.
"In those days I married a lady devoted to charitable works.

Our purpose was to work together, but we found it impracticable.

There was, I fear, little sympathy between us.

The only bond was our work--and that was soon to be broken.