"No, not just that," I protested. "It's the solution to the little puzzle you and I were working at over the atlas in your library that day years ago. It is like a problem in human physics: there were obstacles in the way, but the result was sure from the start."
"But you are near the end of it—and then what?"
"I suppose there will be others!" After a time I added, half to myself: "But there's no happiness in it. There is no happiness."
"Do you look for happiness? That is for children!"
"Then what is the end of it?"
For of a sudden the spring of my energies was slackened within me, and the work that I was doing seemed senseless. Somehow a man's happiness had slipped past me on the road, and now I missed it. There was the joy we might have had, she and I, and we had not taken it. Had we been fools to put it aside? She answered my thoughts.
"We did not want it! Remember we did not want that! Don't let me think that, after all, you regret! I could not stand that—no woman could bear it."
Her voice was like a cry to my soul. On the stairs above Mr. Dround was saying to Sarah:—
"No, I much prefer our Chicago style of building, with large lots, where you can get sunshine on all four sides. It is more healthy, don't you think, Mrs. Harrington?"
And Sarah answered:—