"That's not what I mean, mother."
"You got to be twice to me what you been, darling—twice to me. Listen, darling. I—Oh, my God!"
She was beating softly against his hand held in hers, her voice rising again, and her tears.
"Listen, darling—"
"Now, mother, don't go into a spell. The war is going to help you out on these lonesome fits, mother. Like Slawson put it to-day in Integral Calculus Four, war reduces the personal equation to its lowest terms—it's a matter of—."
"I need you now, Edwin—O God! how I need you! There never was a minute in all these months since you've grown to understand how—it is between your father and me that I needed you so much—"
"Mother, you mustn't make it harder for me to—tell you what I—"
"I think maybe something has happened to me, Edwin. I can feel myself breathe all over—it's like I'm outside of myself somewhere—"
"It's nervousness, mother. You ought to get out more. I'm going to get you some war-work to do, mother, that 'll make you forget yourself. Service is what counts these days!"
"Edwin, it's come—he's leaving me—it—"