It was Fyne who on certain solemn grounds had adopted that mental attitude; but it was enough to glance at him sitting on one side, to see that he was purely masculine to his finger-tips, masculine solidly, densely, amusingly,--hopelessly.
I did glance at him.

You don't get your sagacity recognized by a man's wife without feeling the propriety and even the need to glance at the man now and again.

So I glanced at him.

Very masculine.

So much so that "hopelessly" was not the last word of it.