The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all. Even to my own brother—if I had one—I could not tell everything, and you, although you are so kind, you are almost a stranger, aren’t you?” “No, no!” he protested. She had discussed the general question of supplies with the helpful landlady. What else could one say? I left him to suppose—a registry perhaps. With his arms bare, the neckband of his shirt tucked in, he laboured. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality.
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