"The old male drew himself up as though getting ready to go. "I hate romantics, Quilan. They do not really know themselves, but what is worse they do not really want to know themselves--or, ultimately, anybody else--because they think that will take the mystery out of life. They are fools. You are a fool. Probably your wife was a fool, too." He paused. "Probably you were both romantic fools," he said. "Fools who were doomed to a life of disillusionment and bitterness when you discovered that your precious romanticism faded away after the first few years of marriage and you were left to confront not just your own inadequacies but those of your mate. You were lucky she died. She was unlucky it was her and not you."