What had he said? He ought never to have said that, it gave the whole show away. Why did one’s voice go? But what was there to say? He was blind, finished, on the shelf, that was all. Still, he must carry her through. She must be dreadfully upset about it all. But what was there to say? She was struggling. “It’s all right, it’s not so bad as it looks, it’s not as if we were very poor, it could--much worse, much worse.” How wonderful he was, taking it like this, just like Ralph. She would like to say so many things, she longed to, but he did so hate demonstrativeness. She must try to say the right thing, she must not let it run away with her. And she must talk to keep his mind off. “You are very brave, dear. I know it would have knocked me up completely, Ralph too. I don’t know where you take everything from, I can’t understand you half the time, you’re not a bit like the family, though Mabel told me the other day that you are getting Ralph’s profile as you grow older, but I can’t see it. You know God gave you your sight and He has taken it away, but He has left us each other, you know, and ...” “Yes, yes.” There, she had done it. But it was all true, it must be true. She must not make that mistake again. It wasn’t fair to say that as he was helpless. And what business was it of hers?--he wasn’t hers. Why did these things happen? Why did she sit there? It was so hard. And the pain. “Yes, Mummy, of course.” Mummy, he hadn’t used that for so long. It would not happen again. Her feelings had betrayed her. The great thing was to keep his mind off. One must just go on talking, and it was so hard not to harp on it. A silence would be so terrible. There was always her between them. And it was not right, it was not as if the woman had ever done anything for him, except, of course, to bring him into the world. But it was she who had brought him up. He belonged to her. “I am afraid I shall never be a good mother to you, John. I don’t understand anything except out-of-door things, and babies. You were a lovely baby when you were small, and I could do everything for you then, and I loved it. But now you’ve outgrown me in a way and left me behind. As I was saying to Mabel the other day, I don’t understand the young generation, you’re too free about everything, though in many ways you yourself are an exception to that, with your secretiveness. I don’t know how it is, but young people seem to care less about the country than they did. Now you, John, when you went--go for a walk, you mooch about, as old Pinch would say. When you come back you don’t eat a decent meal, but in that nice phrase, you are all mimmocky with your grub.” She laughed tremulously, then hurried on. He smiled at the old friend, though his mouth seemed afraid.