"But your work," she said; "your research?"
"I must give up research," he said.
"Oh, my dearest!"
"I must give up research," he repeated. "I've been seeing it for days. Clearer and clearer. This dear, just settles things. Even—as we were coming home in the train—I was making up my mind. At Vevey I was talking to Solomonson."
"My dear," she whispered, clinging to him.
"I talked to Solomonson. He had ideas—a proposal."
"No," she said.
"Yes," he said. "I've left the thing too long."
He repeated. "I must give up research—for years. I ought to have done it long before."
"I had meant so well," she said. "I meant to work. I meant to deny myself...."