“Yes,” said Aggie, “it comes to the same thing.”
And she read no more. For the first time, for many years, she understood him.
That night, as they parted, he did not draw her to him and kiss her; but he let her tired head lean towards him, and stroked her hair. Her eyes filled with tears. She laid her forehead on his shoulder.
“Poor Aggie,” he said, “poor little woman.”
She lifted her head suddenly.
“It’s poor you,” she whispered, “poor, poor dear.”
VIII
“Now, isn’t it a pity for you to be going, dearie? When the place is doing you so much good, and Susie back in another week, and all.”
“‘Now, isn’t it a pity for you to be going, dearie?’”