Yes, there was one, the fretting of the human spirit, whereas his own did not fret. What he could interpret existence into was to him satisfying. For himself he longed and wished for nothing, except to hold himself open, as he indeed held himself, for the moods of Nature to play upon. Yet in that bedroom upstairs he had left one, asleep indeed by the mere exercise of a stronger will on his, who would to-morrow awake and combat and perhaps succumb to forces that were stronger than he. For himself, he combatted with no force; he but yielded in welcome to what to him was irresistible. But Evelyn, who slept now, would awake to try his strength against another. Which was right?
Gladys Ellington, as has been remarked, was not in the least ill-natured, and never even hinted ill-natured things against anybody unless she was certain to be undiscovered. So, as all the world knew, since she was not "quite devoted," a phrase of her's, to her mother-in-law, the merest elements of wisdom demanded of her that she should be unreserved in her commendation of Madge's engagement. Unreserved, in consequence, she was, even to her own husband. He also was quite unreserved, but his unreserve was whiskered and red-faced like himself, and bore not the slightest resemblance to his wife's voluble raptures.
"Seems to me," he said, "that Madge has married him for his money. Don't believe she loves him. Cold-blooded fish like that. Don't tell me. Hate a girl marrying for money. American and so on. Good love match, like you and me, Gladys. I hadn't a sou, you hadn't a penny. Same sort of thing, eh?"
Lord Ellington usually ended his sentences with "Eh?" If he did not end them with "Eh?" he ended them with "What?" The effect in either case was the same, for, like Pilate, he did not wait for an answer. "Eh" or "what," in fact, meant that he had not finished; if he had finished, he ended up his period with "Don't tell me." As a consequence, perhaps, nobody told him anything. All worked together for good here, because he would not have understood it if they had. He was fond of his wife, and slightly fonder of his dinner. Why she had married him was a mystery; but there are so many mysteries of this kind that it is best to leave them alone.