He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. “He spends hours of every day on the pavement below,” Anna answered calmly. Manning, her aunt and father, neighbors, customs, traditions, forces. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Wood's reception of the widow, who, at that moment, was ushered into the room by Winifred, was not particularly kind and encouraging.
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