“You spend very little time at home.”
“Yes,” he said, shaking his head.
“Don’t you care to read?”
“I don’t seem to, now.”
“Why, David?”
“I do not want to be at home. When I am home, I go to bed. Even if it is only nine o’clock.”
And then there was a pause.
“You do not seem,” she said, “to be very fond of the company of your friend.”
He shook his head again, looked away. It was not needful, long. Again, he saw her.
He was very easeful and relaxed. He made no effort to talk or to conceal, when he was with her. She was a sweet impersonal presence. It was good of her to let him come so often. He had no sense within his vision of himself in the world, of her who was a woman beside him.