Such was the
image under which he had ended by figuring his life.
They had at first, none the less, in the scattered hours spent
together, made no allusion to that view of it; which was a sign he
was handsomely alert to give that he didn't expect, that he in fact
didn't care, always to be talking about it. Such a feature in
one's outlook was really like a hump on one's back. The difference
it made every minute of the day existed quite independently of
discussion. One discussed of course LIKE a hunchback, for there
was always, if nothing else, the hunchback face. That remained,
and she was watching him; but people watched best, as a general
thing, in silence, so that such would be predominantly the manner
of their vigil. Yet he didn't want, at the same time, to be tense
and solemn; tense and solemn was what he imagined he too much
showed for with other people. The thing to be, with the one person
who knew, was easy and natural--to make the reference rather than
be seeming to avoid it, to avoid it rather than be seeming to make
it, and to keep it, in any case, familiar, facetious even, rather
than pedantic and portentous.
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