She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. If she has no children, she goes on loving her husband; but he is no longer a man but a child. There was a wall; she was always encountering it; the one time she was able to break through this wall was when the part in his hair was crooked. The latter were saved; but of the former nothing but the blackened stone walls were found standing on the morrow. She had remained patently unavailable to him. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour.
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