‘You see, if one goes on obviously mourning someone, other people come along and insist on entering in and pitying and sympathising, and they force one’s recollection into one’s outward life and spoil it all. But if one seems to have forgotten, the world lets one alone and thinks one is just like everyone else, but that doesn’t matter. One lives one’s outer life and they see that, but below it lies the memory, unspoiled and intact. By marrying the first reasonable person that asked me, I should thereby be able to keep you; my remembrance would live with me always and be my very own. Do you
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