He might have written before more freely, but he had never written more copiously; and he frankly gave for a reason at Woollett that he wished to fill the void created there by Sarah's departure.
The increase of his darkness, however, and the quickening, as I have called it, of his tune, resided in the fact that he was hearing almost nothing.

He had for some time been aware that he was hearing less than before, and he was now clearly following a process by which Mrs.
Newsome's letters could but logically stop.

He hadn't had a line for many days, and he needed no proof--though he was, in time, to have plenty--that she wouldn't have put pen to paper after receiving the hint that had determined her telegram.

She wouldn't write till Sarah should have seen him and reported on him.

It was strange, though it might well be less so than his own behaviour appeared at Woollett.