But, dull to her?
She, at least, was reverential to the memory of him.
She lisped now and then of "my husband," very prettily, and with intense provocation; and yet she worshipped brains.

Evidently she thirsted for that rare union of brains and bravery in a man, and would never surrender till she had discovered it.

Perhaps she fancied it did not exist.

It might be that she took Edward as the type of brains, and Harry of bravery, and supposed that the two qualities were not to be had actually in conjunction.
Her admiration of his (Edward's) wit, therefore, only strengthened the idea she entertained of his deficiency in that other companion manly virtue.
Edward must have been possessed, for he ground his teeth villanously in supposing himself the victim of this outrageous suspicion.

And how to prove it false?
How to prove it false in a civilized age, among sober-living men and women, with whom the violent assertion of bravery would certainly imperil his claim to brains?
His head was like a stew-pan over the fire, bubbling endlessly.
He railed at her to Algernon, and astonished the youth, who thought them in a fair way to make an alliance.