Hundreds of times he had been baffled by the hedge round that disharmonic nature.

With each failure something had shrivelled in him, till the very roots of his affection had dried up.

She had worn out a man who, to judge from his actions and appearance, was naturally long-suffering to a fault.

Beneath all manner of kindness and consideration for each other--for their good taste, at all events, had never given way--this tragedy of a woman, who wanted to be loved, slowly killing the power of loving her in the man, had gone on year after year.

It had ceased to be tragedy, as far as Hilary was concerned; the nerve of his love for her was quite dead, slowly frozen out of him.