"It's a kindness," he went on, "to go and see her. It takes her mind off herself."
"She doesn't complain."
"No. She doesn't complain. But her mind turns in on itself. It preys on her. And of course it's terrible for John."
She agreed. "Of course, it's terrible—for John." But she was thinking how terrible it was for Mabel. She wondered, did they say of her and of her malady, how terrible it was for Hugh?
"This is a great interruption to your work," he said presently, with the peculiar solemnity he accorded to the obvious.
Her pace quickened. The frosty air stung her cheeks and the blood mounted there.
"It won't hurt you," he said. "You're better when you're not working."
"Am I?" said she in a voice that irritated Henry.