He expected, of course, his wife to be very much upset, but he wanted her to pull herself together.

He needed all her assistance and all her loyalty in these new conjunctures his fatalism had already accepted.
"Can't be helped," he said in a tone of gloomy sympathy.

"Come, Winnie, we've got to think of to-morrow.

You'll want all your wits about you after I am taken away." He paused.

Mrs Verloc's breast heaved convulsively.