Where is that love of me that used to be uppermost in your thoughts? […] For her husband, who was no more, she prayed incessantly: that he might be safe; that he might come home; that he might not, in his absence, see any one that he would love better than her. […] I now perceive that I am a victim to that name. […] She envied the weapon that he grasped, the reins that he held. […] I will try that way.”