But it wasn't because he didn't see her; no, he didn't deceive himself.

The more he saw of her the worse he would be.

Not one man in a thousand was capable of feeling so intensely and deeply as Aylmer felt, and never in his life before had he felt anything like it.

And now it came on again with the ebb and flow of passion, like an illness.

Why was he so miserable--why would nothing else do?
He suddenly remembered with a smile that when he was five years old he had adored a certain nurse, and for some reason or other his mother sent her away.