But as a member of a revolutionary proletariat--which he undoubtedly was--he nourished a rather inimical sentiment against social distinction.
"Nothing on earth can stop me now," he added, and paused, looking fixedly at his wife, who was looking fixedly at a blank wall.
The silence in the kitchen was prolonged, and Mr Verloc felt disappointed.

He had expected his wife to say something.

But Mrs Verloc's lips, composed in their usual form, preserved a statuesque immobility like the rest of her face.

And Mr Verloc was disappointed.
Yet the occasion did not, he recognised, demand speech from her.

She was a woman of very few words.