Her mind went back into the past.

How his office had always absorbed him.

What a refuge it had been in the months that followed Amy's death.

"I wasn't the one who first made him forget.

Oh, no, it was his business!" And now, as it had weaned him once from his grief for the woman who had died, it was at him again to draw him away from the woman who was living.
There had been a time when it was not so, when she could keep him late at breakfast and make him come home early at night, still fresh enough to read and talk, discuss things, go to the opera, take up his music, plan a trip to Paris.