Such glimpses of this other side of his nature prove that he didn’t lack empathy, only that he deliberately chose not to express it. I find these instances of tenderness almost unforgivable.
While reading this I kept thinking of Tom in "Ploughman's Lunch," the first story in Susan's collection Slipping the Moorings. Tom and William Brown McCallum are very different people but have in common a certain imprisoning obtuseness that is actually touching.
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