"And still isn't exactly happy in me."
"Are you happy in yourself? She's very well satisfied with you—worships the ground you walk on, as the saying is—but that's not to say she's satisfied with your life. And more am I, or anybody that cares about you. And more are you."
"Well, well; but Myles Stapledon—this dear, good chap. He's a—what? Why, a magnifying glass for people to see me in—upside down."
"He thinks very little about you, I fancy."
"He's succeeded in making me feel a fool, anyhow; and that's unpleasant. Tell me what to do, Mr. Endicott. Where shall I begin?"
"Begin to be a man, Yeoland. That's what a woman wants in her husband—wants it unconsciously before everything. A man—self-contained, resolute—a figure strong enough to lean upon in storm and stress."
"Stapledon is a man."
"He is, emphatically. He knows where he is going, and the road. He gets unity into his life, method into his to-morrows."
"To-morrow's always all right. It's to-day that bothers me so infernally."
"Ah! and yesterday must make you feel sick every time you think of it, if you've any conscience."