But I dreaded it, this visiting which ought to have been so tender and holy.

I said that I wanted some tea, that I was cold.
He put me in a deep chair and kneeling before me he chafed my hands, now and again stopping to kiss them.

I was grateful when the kettle suddenly hissed and he stood up and said that for this once he was going to make the tea.

So many days and years I should make it for him, sitting opposite to him and making the place where we were together Heaven by my face.
When it was ready he poured it out and brought it to me.

He fed me with little pieces of hot teacake and other dainties.