” “It is ironic that you say that, John, for it is I who am afraid of you. “I knew you would feel it,” said Miss Miniver, as they came away flushed and heated. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. In that sense, my strategy worked. And because he knew it was a burden, there was no gaiety upon the doctor's face; neither was there speech on his tongue. But the relief from the strain of her immediate necessities was immense. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now.
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