He had, indeed, loved her to the last, for his was an affectionate spirit, but she had become increasingly difficult: jealous of her stepdaughter June, jealous even of her own little daughter Holly, and making ceaseless plaint that he could not love her, ill as she was, and “useless to everyone, and better dead.” He had mourned her sincerely, but his face had looked younger since she died. If she could only have believed that she made him happy, how much happier would the twenty years of their companionship have been!