"Yes. Mine. We can't go on living like this, so close to each other, without knowing. We may try to keep things from each other, but we can't. I feel as if you'd seen everything."
She said to herself: "He's thinking of Mrs. Levitt."
"I don't suppose I've seen anything that matters," she said.
"You've seen what my life is here. You can't have helped seeing that
Fanny and I don't hit it off very well together."
"Fanny's an angel."
"You dear little loyal thing…. Yes, she's an angel. Too much of an angel for a mere man. I made my grand mistake, Barbara, when I married her."
"She doesn't think so, anyhow."
"I'm not so sure. Fanny knows she's got hold of something that's too—too big for her. What's wrong with Fanny is that she can't grasp things. She's afraid of them. And she can't take serious things seriously. It's no use expecting her to. I've left off expecting."
"You don't understand Fanny one bit."
"My dear child, I've been married to her more than seventeen years, and I'm not a fool. You've seen for yourself how she takes things. How she belittles everything with her everlasting laugh, laugh, laugh. In time it gets on your nerves."