Monica first of all wrote a letter to her sister; then, as it was still impossible to go out, she took up one of the volumes that lay on a side-table in their sitting-room, novels left by former lodgers.

Her choice was something or other with yellow back.
Widdowson, watching all her movements furtively, became aware of the pictured cover.
'I don't think you'll get much good out of that,' he remarked, after one or two efforts to speak.
'No harm, at all events,' she replied good-humouredly.
'I'm not so sure.

Why should you waste your time?
Take "Guy Mannering," if you want a novel.' 'I'll see how I like this first.' He felt himself powerless, and suffered acutely from the thought that Monica was in rebellion against him.

He could not understand what had brought about this sudden change.

Fear of losing his wife's love restrained him from practical despotism, yet he was very near to uttering a definite command.
In the afternoon it no longer rained, and the wind had less violence.
They went out to look at the sea.