"I think he's losing any sense of my likeness.

He's too used to it--or too many things that are too different now cover it up." "Well," said Mrs.Brook as she took this in, "I think it's awfully clever of you to get only the good of him and have none of the worry." Nanda wondered.

"The worry ?" "You leave that all to ME," her mother went on, but quite forgivingly.
"I hope at any rate that the good, for you, will be real." "Real ?" the girl, remaining vague, again echoed.
Mrs.Brook showed for this not perhaps an irritation, but a flicker of austerity.

"You must remember we've a great many things to think about.
There are things we must take for granted in each other--we must all help in our way to pull the coach.

That's what I mean by worry, and if you don't have any so much the better for you.