She was surprised to find how stored her mind was with impressions and memories of him, how vividly she remembered his gestures and little things that he had said. ‘You’re right. So soft. The thought of you, wandering from pillar to post, believing yourself hunted—it tore my old heart to pieces! For I knew you. You've your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son —perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. Niece and aunt regarded each other for a moment over their pockethandkerchiefs with watery but antagonistic eyes, each far too profoundly moved to see the absurdity of the position.
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