Then he informed his wife of what had befallen. He was not cheerful, but with five hundred pounds in his pocket he could not be altogether depressed. What might not happen in a year? He was becoming prominent; there had been mention of him lately in London journals. Pooh! as if he would ever really want! ‘The great thing,’ he exclaimed, ‘is that I can lay down the hundred pounds! If I’d failed in that it would have been all up. Come, now, why can’t you give me a bit of encouragement, Adela? I tell you what it is. There’s no place where I’m thought so little of as in my own home, and that’s a fact.’ She did not worship him, she made no pretence of it. Her cold, pale beauty had not so much power over him as formerly, but it still chagrined him keenly as often as he was reminded that he had no high place in his wife’s judgment. He knew well enough that it was impossible for her to: admire him; he was conscious of the thousand degrading things he had said and done, every one of them stored in her memory. Perhaps not once since that terrible day in the Pentonville lodgings had he looked her straight in the eyes. Yes, her beauty appealed to him less than even a year ago; Adela knew it, and it was the one solace in her living death. Perhaps occasion could again have stung him into jealousy, but Adela was no longer a vital interest in his existence. He lived in external things, his natural life. Passion had been an irregularity in his development. Yet he would gladly have had his wife’s sympathy. He neither loved nor hated her, but she was for ever above him, and, however unconsciously, he longed for her regard. Irreproachable, reticent, it might be dying, Adela would no longer affect interests she did not feel. To these present words of his she replied only with a grave, not unkind, look; a look he could not under stand, yet which humbled rather than irritated him. The servant opened the door and announced a visitor--‘Mr. Hilary.’ Mutimer seemed struck with a thought as he heard the name. ‘The very man!’ he exclaimed below his breath, with a glance at Adela. ‘Just run off and let us have this room. My luck won’t desert me, see if it does!’ CHAPTER XXXII