'Not so very awful,' commented John Sheldon, turning his eyes away from Sheilah's, so pleading and full of pain. Often he had to turn his eyes away from suffering not to show his sympathy. It was the ability to maintain an impersonal attitude that made confidences run fluently sometimes.
'You see she expects so much of me,' Sheilah went on. 'I'm all she has, and if I should make a mistake—if I should disappoint her—and I'm almost certain I'm going to make a mistake—that I'm going to disappoint her But why do I tell you all this?' She turned as suddenly away from John Sheldon as she had towards him a moment before.
He said quietly, prosaically, 'Simply because it is my business to be told, I guess. Part of my job, if you feel like telling anybody.'
'Oh, I'm so unhappy! I'm so unhappy!' she cried out. And she turned and buried her face in the pillow, and her shoulders shook with silent sobbing.
John Sheldon didn't put his hands on her. There was no sign of pity from him.
'It's a good idea to cry,' he commented, in a professional voice, and went over to the window and looked out. Later he came back to her. 'Now, shall I do a little listening, Sheilah?' he asked her. Still later, before he left her, 'Get up and dress and go down to dinner when I go,' he said. 'I'm coming
