combination of circumstances.

When Brian had finished his story with the account of his discovery of
the distressing fact that he had robbed Auntie Sue and that she knew he
had robbed her, Betty Jo said: "It is really a sad story, isn't it, Mr.
Burns? But, oh, isn't Auntie Sue wonderful! Was there ever such
another woman in the world! Don't you love her? And couldn't you do
anything--anything that would make her happy? After all, when you think
of Auntie Sue, and how wonderful she has been, this whole thing isn't so
bad, is it?"

"Why, I--I--don't think I see what you mean," Brian replied, puzzled
by the unexpected turn she had given to the situation, yet convinced by
that little question with which she finished that she was somehow right.

"Well, I mean wouldn't YOU love to do for some one what Auntie Sue has
done for you? I should if I were only big enough and good enough.
It seems to me it would make one the happiest and contentedest and
peacefulest person in the world, wouldn't it?"

Brian did not answer. While he felt himself agreeing with Betty Jo's
view, he was wondering at himself that he could discuss the matter
so calmly. It was not that he no longer felt deeply the shame of this
terrible thing that he had done; it was not that he had ceased to suffer
the torment that had caused his emotional madness, which had found
expression in his attempt to destroy his manuscript; it was only
that this young woman somehow made it possible for him to retain his
self-control, and instead of venting his emotions in violent and wholly
useless expressions of regret, and self-condemnation, and in irrational,
temperamental action, to consider coolly and sanely what he must do. He