He knew her in the mountains, or bustling about at home getting ready for Laura's wedding, or packing Edith's children off for their summer up at the farm.

But did that make it any easier?
No.

To let yourself go was easy, but to keep hold of yourself was hard.

It meant wear and tear on a woman, this constant straining effort to keep her balance and see life whole.
"Well, it will break her down, that's all, and I don't propose to allow it," he thought.

"She's got to rest this summer and go easier next fall." But how could he accomplish it?
As he thought about her school, with its long and generous arms reaching upon every side out into the tenements, the prospect was bewildering.