She was taking it even worse than he had expected. She seemed actually terrified.
"I can't live here without you," she cried brokenly, "indeed I can't."
He gently disengaged himself.
"Most people's difficulty," he said, deliberately lathering his chin, "has not been how to live without me, but how to live with me."
"But I can't live without you."
"You've got Len."
"But he's only—only half."
"The better half. I'm a rotten lot, Janey. You'll be far happier when I'm gone. I'm a sulky brute—don't contradict me; I know it. I'm a sulky, bad-tempered brute. Again and again I've spoiled your happiness and the lad's—I've done nothing but snap and snarl at you, and I've gone whining about the place when you wanted to be cheerful. You've both been utter sports to put up with me so long—you'll notice the difference when I'm away, if you can't realise it now."
Janey was sitting on the bed, drowned in tears.