He patted the hand on his sleeve. These were so outside her experience that she found it possible to thrust them almost out of sight by saying they would be “all right” in confident tones to herself. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home. “These are the sort of things that aren’t supposed to happen. And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again. And the less “anything” happened the better.
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