In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. See paragraph 1. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. "In the name of your lamented parent, whose memory I shall for ever revere, I implore you to answer me," urged Kneebone, "why—why would you not accept him?" "Because our positions are different," replied Winifred, who could not resist this appeal to her feelings.
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