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The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Chance by Joseph Conrad: lighted his lamp, helped him into his dressing-gown or got him a
book from a bookcase fitted in there--but this last rarely, because
Mr. Smith used to declare "I am no reader" with something like pride
in his low tones. Very often after kissing her good-night on the
forehead he would treat her to some such fretful remark: "It's like
being in jail--'pon my word. I suppose that man is out there
waiting for you. Head jailer! Ough!"
She would smile vaguely; murmur a conciliatory "How absurd." But
once, out of patience, she said quite sharply "Leave off. It hurts
me. One would think you hate me."
"It isn't you I hate," he went on monotonously breathing at her.
Chance | 
