She had agonized over it for weeks. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. ‘I don’t want him having an apoplexy in this house. Then came the shock of the knowledge that soon he would be going upon his way, that there would be no one to depend upon her; and all the old loneliness came smothering down upon her again. It was a bizarre sight, a miniature manor, replicated fully, walled in gray limestone. At length the task was done, and she jabbed the needle into a cushion, folded the coat, and rose. Take it, if I die. . . Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. For nearly thirty years he had lived here in contented loneliness; then youth had to come and fill him with discontent.
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