Once again he was to encounter that practical strain in the
feminine mind which jars upon a man in trouble. She was holding
something in her hand and looking at it with concern.
'Why didn't you tell me?' she said. 'Your socks are in an awful
state, poor boy!'
He had the feeling of having been hit by something. A man has not
a woman's gift of being able to transfer his mind at will from
sorrow to socks.
'Like sieves!' She sighed. A troubled frown wrinkled her forehead.
'Men are so helpless! Oh, dear, I'm sure you don't pay any
attention to anything important. I don't believe you ever bother
your head about keeping warm in winter and not getting your feet
wet. And now I shan't be able to look after you!'
Bill's voice broke. He felt himself trembling.
'Elizabeth!'
She was kneeling on the floor, her head bent over the suitcase.
She looked up and met his eyes.
'It's no use, Bill, dear. I must. It's the only way.'
The sense of the nearness of the end broke down the numbness
which held him.
'Elizabeth! It's so utterly absurd. It's just--chucking everything
away!'
She was silent for a moment.
'Bill, dear, I haven't said anything about it before but don't you
see that there's my side to be considered too? I only showed you
that you could never possibly know that I loved you.
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