It was in a warm guest house deep in blizzarding mountains surrounded
by comradery and friendship that H. decided for the rest of his
life to be alone.  No one knew that he had done this, for nothing had
changed in the world faced.  He continued to chat with them of
trifling matters as religion and war and still wrote to them perhaps
too apologetic letters praising their companionship.  Perhaps some of the more 
observant perceived that H. had gone from not being part of a group 
to being deliberately distant.  But they would not question his motives.
The bounds of politeness exceed the strength of friendship.

There was one card left to play; then Herr H. would exit the game.

"Are you okay?" asked the only girl who could see the
shadow in his eyes.

"No," said H.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.

"No," he answered.