She would be dead to him, and he to her.
In England she would live among her friends as his widow, pitied, and comforted, and beloved.

But what would the coming years bring to him?
All that would remain to him of the past would be a fading photograph only.
So long he lingered over this mournful conflict that he was at last aroused from it by the entrance of the landlord, and the mayor and other officials, who had come to look at the body of the dead.

Roland's pocket-book lay open on the bed, and he was still gazing at the portraits of his children.

He raised his sunburnt face as they came in, and rose to meet them.
"This traveller," he said, "gave to me his pocket-book as I watched beside him last night.

It is here, containing his passport, a few letters, and fifty pounds in notes, which he told me to keep, but which I wish to give to the commune." "They must be taken charge of," said the mayor; "but we will look over them first.