"No, Richmond, I'm afraid it's not that. It's serious."
"But Mary loves him, Frances."
"I know," said James. "That's the tragedy of it. If I could only persuade myself that she didn't care for me, it would be all right."
Colonel Parsons sank into his chair, suddenly collapsing. He seemed smaller than ever, wizened and frail; the wisp of white hair that concealed his baldness fell forward grotesquely. His face assumed again that expression, which was almost habitual, of anxious fear.
"Oh, father, don't look like that! I can't help it! Don't make it harder for me than possible. You talk to him, mother. Explain that it's not my fault. There was nothing else I could do."
Colonel Parsons sat silent, with his head bent down, but Mrs. Parsons asked:
"What did you say to Mary this morning?"
"I told her exactly what I felt."
"You said you didn't love her?"
"I had to."