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He did his work at the University as he did his work on the farm—thoroughly, conscientiously, with neither pleasure nor distress.
His parents were happy to see him, and they seemed not to resent his decision. But he found that he had nothing to say to them; already, he realized, he and his parents were becoming strangers;
Stoner thought: He is going to die—in a year, or two years, or ten, he will die. A premature sense of loss gripped him,
When Stoner tried to help her she became stubborn, her lips tightened, and she shook her head; he needed the time for his studies, she said; this was her job.
Grace came; and he found that, after all, he had little to say to her.
“You were a beautiful child,” he heard himself saying,
