However, he knew that his wife was right, and was in a certain way aware that if he could only change himself and be another sort of man, he might manage the matter better.

He could be fiercely angry, or caressingly affectionate.

But he was unable to adopt that safe and golden mean, which his wife recommended.

He could not keep himself from interchanging a piteous glance or two with Marie at supper, and put a great deal too much unction into his caress to please Madame Voss, when Marie came to kiss him before she went to bed.
In the mean time Marie was quite aware that it was incumbent on her to determine what she would do.

It may be as well to declare at once that she had determined--had determined fully, before her uncle and George had started for their walk up to the wood-cutting.