Such a thing as pleasure or hospitality pure and simple had no place in the plan of Mr.Sheldon's life.

The race in which he was running was not to be won by a loiterer.

The golden apples were always rolling on before the runner; and woe be to him who turned away from the course to dally with the flowers or loiter by the cool streams that beautified the wayside.
Thus it was that Mr.Sheldon's existence grew day by day more completely absorbed by business pursuits and business interests.

Poor Georgy complained peevishly of her husband's neglect; but she did not dare to pour her lamentations into the ear of the offender.

It was a kind of relief to grumble about his busy life to servants and humble female friends and confidantes; but what could she say to Philip Sheldon himself?
What ground had she for complaint?
He very seldom stayed out late; he never came home tipsy.