not be anything else, do anything but go on from day to day. …"
"I know, I'm not reproaching you—and you don't understand me, either. All these months you only have been in my thoughts—you have been my only real interest, though I tried to be interested in my work. I've wanted only to take care of you—if you remember, you know that's true."
"Yes, you have tried. I have been a great burden."
"Never to me have you been anything but the dearest part of myself, the dearest thing on earth. Never a burden. I've often been sad because of you, but if you think I've loved you less"
He could not go on. He took up his glass with a shaking hand, and drank.
"I can't understand," said Teresa, and her voice was a low cry of pain.
"I wish to God you could know every thought of my heart, every act of mine—then perhaps you would understand. You would know, at least, how I love you."
"But you can't tell me, can you? You can't tell me the truth about—this."
Basil was silent now. Uppermost in his consciousness was a feeling of unbearable fatigue, confusing his mind. He thought vaguely that if he had not been so tired he would not have got
