It had been understood from the beginning that she wasn't to go with him.

The tapping of her crutch was no more to be heard in the new gracious existence than in the House where she had never followed him.

Life for Ellen was lived close at hand.

There were hollyhocks and currant bushes in her garden and Julian's children overran it.
It was not Ellen then that Peter missed as he sat alone in the house that night with his back to the lowered light and his gaze seeking the river and the flitting shapes of boats that went up and down on it, freighted with young voices and laughter.

He missed the Lovely Lady.