She was still very pale.
A sudden pity for her came over Henry.

After all, he ought to try to make his position clear to her.

"Sylvia," he said, "what do you think you would do, after all these years of housekeeping, if you had to stand in a shoe-shop, from morning till night, at a bench cutting leather ?" Sylvia stared at him.

"Me ?" "Yes, you." "Why, you know I couldn't do it, Henry Whitman!" "Well, no more can I stand such a change in my life.

I can't go to farming and setting around after forty years in a shoe-shop, any more than you can work in a shoe-shop after forty years of housekeeping." "It ain't the same thing at all," said Sylvia.
"Why not ?" "Because it ain't." Sylvia closed her thin lips conclusively.