As he went to the door, taking up his hat and stick, Nigel said: "I sincerely hope you won't miss me!" CHAPTER XXIX NIGEL AND MARY Nigel rushed back. On his way, he decided that he had got a real excuse for a holiday; he had every right to go away for a time from such a wife; and he found himself thinking chiefly about where he would go and how he would amuse himself. If the husband had only known it, Bertha had already, if not exactly forbidden him the house, discouraged his calling, almost as distinctly, though more kindly, than Percy did. Still, if Percy had not given him that piece of information, he would have remained in London, and left it to chance that they might meet again somehow. He was such an optimist, and was really so very much in love with her. Curious that this news of Bertha should annoy and should excite him so much! Why, it seemed to him to be a matter of more importance and far more interest than in his own wife's case. That he had taken quite as a matter of course, an ordinary everyday occurrence "which would give her something to do." He was really disappointed when he found that Mary did not absorb herself in her children, and found she was only anxious--foolishly anxious--that he should not think that they could take his place as companions. Nigel was affectionate by nature, and if Mary had insisted on that note--if she had made him proud of his children, encouraged his affection for them, if she had played the madonna--his affection for her would have been immensely increased. She would have had a niche in his heart--a respect and tenderness, even if she had never been able to make him entirely faithful, which, perhaps, only one woman could have done. But, instead of that, Mary had been jealous and silly and violently exacting. She wished him to be her slave and under her thumb, and yet she wanted him to be her lover. Every word she had ever spoken, everything she had ever done since their marriage had had the exact contrary effect of what she desired. She had sent him further and further away from her. That she knew he had married her for her money embittered her and yet made her tyrannical. She wanted to take advantage of that fact, in a way that no man could endure. Yet she was to be pitied. Anyone so exacting must be terribly unhappy.