QUOTE : Mrs May marvelled at the purposeful progress of this rather stout woman, who, under guise of perfect suburban conformity, might even now be contemplating a visit to the temples of South-East Asia. I could have done that, she thought; all it takes is a little courage. But it was the sort of courage she signally lacked. Courage to live alone, yes, and to die alone when the time came; courage to meet the empty day formally dressed and scented; courage to confront long endless Sundays, sustained only by a diet of newspapers and walks round the garden, the latter curtailed in case she was observed by idlers at their windows. What was missing was the courage that would enable her to put long distances between herself and her home, her bed. Even when married to Henry, and genuinely enjoying their excursions, she had been homesick, although at that stage, she remembered, her home was not entirely her own, so that the homesickness was very slightly mitigated. And she had only to feel Henry’s arm in hers, when he was beginning to be ill, to know that her duty was no longer to herself, that home was to be his refuge, no longer hers.