He was jealous of her forming new acquaintances; indifferent to society himself, he thought his wife should be satisfied with her present friends, and could not understand why she wished to see them so often.
The girl was docile, and for a time he imagined that there would never be conflict between his will and hers.

Whilst enjoying their holiday they naturally went everywhere together, and were scarce an hour out of each other's presence, day or night.

In quiet spots by the seashore, when they sat in solitude, Widdowson's tongue was loosened, and he poured forth his philosophy of life with the happy assurance that Monica would listen passively.

His devotion to her proved itself in a thousand ways; week after week he grew, if anything, more kind, more tender; yet in his view of their relations he was unconsciously the most complete despot, a monument of male autocracy.

Never had it occurred to Widdowson that a wife remains an individual, with rights and obligations independent of her wifely condition.