“‘Why are you so unhappy, Louise?‘
‘I‘d not be so unhappy if Bob loved me just a little.‘
‘You mustn‘t be unhappy, Louise-you know that I love you.‘ They would leave together, and talk, and have no secrets from one another. But it wasn‘t like that. Louise was alone. She had a daughter; but though a child might give warmth, a presence and a reason for living, she couldn‘t offer relief or help of any kind- she was more like a tender burden.”