"
His manner was good, almost defying criticism, as he reassured her on
this point; and when he left her, her predominant impression was that, so
far as their personal relations went, she had exaggerated the dangers and
under-rated the attractions.
"I think he'll always be rather nice to me and not do anything very
dreadful. But then, what will he do to other people?"
This was the fear which still possessed her and which no fine moment of
his drove out. She seemed to have power to bring him to his best, to give
him the cue for his fine scenes, to create in him the inspiration to
great moments. But when he dealt with other people, her power would be
useless. She would have to stand by and see him at his worst, looking on
no longer as an irresponsible, as well as a helpless, spectator, but as
one who had undertaken responsibility for him, who must feel for him what
he did not for himself, who must be sensitive while he was callous,
wounded while his skin went unpierced. She felt that she had taken up a
very solitary position, between him and the world, not truly at home with
either; a sense of loneliness came upon her.
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