“Less luck than that. Leaving for some darn camp in Mississippi."
She shut her eyes and he could see that the lids were trembling. "Dear little Dot, life is so damned hard."
She was crying upon his shoulder. "So damned hard, so damned hard," he repeated aimlessly; "it just hurts people and hurts people, until finally it hurts them so that they can't be hurt ever any more. That's the last and worst thing it does."
Frantic, wild with anguish, she strained him to her breast. "Oh, God!" she whispered brokenly, "you can't go way from me. I'd die."
He was finding it impossible to pass off his departure as a common, impersonal blow.”