"One always does," she interposed.
"I have not seen her since, except once, through the window, and—well, it was very bad indeed for some time after that."
She laughed. "That's it. That's it." she said. "How long ago was that?"
"About two years."
"And you still think of her?"
"Well—occasionally."
"Ah, Mr Carstairs, you're badly hit." She leaned towards him in an affectionate, motherly manner. "You're badly hit," she grew pensive all of a sudden. "It may be good, or it may be bad. 'Tis a Providence, I suppose. You know you're very selfish, Mr Carstairs."
"Me? Mrs Darwen!" Carstairs was amazed.
"You needn't be so surprised, it's a universal masculine attribute. Charlie can explain it, he understands it."
"Result of heredity, relic of the chimpanzee," Darwen remarked casually.