He worshipped his wife--as men with big hearts and weak brains often do worship such women--with dog- like devotion.

His only dread was lest the scandal should reach proportions that would compel him to take notice of it, and thus bring shame and suffering upon the woman to whom he would have given his life.
That a man who saw her should love her seemed natural to him; that she should have grown tired of himself, a thing not to be wondered at.

He was grateful to her for having once loved him, for a little while.
"As for 'the other man,' he proved somewhat of an enigma to the gossips.
He attempted no secrecy; if anything, he rather paraded his subjugation--or his conquest, it was difficult to decide which term to apply.

He rode and drove with her; visited her in public and in private (in such privacy as can be hoped for in a house filled with chattering servants, and watched by spying eyes); loaded her with expensive presents, which she wore openly, and papered his smoking-den with her photographs.

Yet he never allowed himself to appear in the least degree ridiculous; never allowed her to come between him and his work.