He poured the soup into a big bowl, and placed the bowl on a plate, then wedged bits of bread around it and carried it to the table, a soup spoon in his other hand. The table was too big for a solitary dinner. He imagined Maggie's wry smile facing him across the table. It would not, never for all time. He ate slowly, did his few dishes, retired to read till exhaustion.
Exhaustion comes much later in the night than the young imagine.