It was in the nature of the life he chose to lead that
he should see a great deal of her, and think a great
deal about her, and she bore both tests admirably.
If there was a fault to be found, it was with himself
for his inability to altogether understand her. She played
the part she had undertaken to play with abundant skill
and discretion and grace, and even with an air of nice
good-fellowship which had some of the aspects of affection.
He was vaguely annoyed with himself for having insight
enough to perceive that it was a part she was playing,
and yet lacking the added shrewdness to divine what
her own personal attitude to her role was like.
He had noticed sometimes the way good women looked at
their husbands when the latter were talking over their
heads--with the eager, intent, non-comprehending admiration
of an affectionate dog. This was a look which he could
not imagine himself discovering in his wife's eves.
It was not conceivable to him that he should talk
over her head. Her glance not only revealed an ample
understanding of all he said, but suggested unused reserves
of comprehension which he might not fathom. It was as if,
intellectually no less than socially, she possessed
a title and he remained an undistinguished plebeian.
He made no grievance, however, even in his own thoughts,
of either inequality.
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