To judge from his appearance nothing was troubling his mind.
Indeed, Geoffrey studying him in the same way that he instinctively studied everybody whom he met, thought that he had never before seen a man who looked quite so ox-like and absolutely comfortable.

And yet he never was more completely at fault.

The man seemed stolid and cold indeed, but it was the coldness of a volcano.

His heart was a-fire.
All the human forces in him, all the energies of his sturdy life, had concentrated themselves in a single passion for the woman who was so near and yet so far from him.

He had never drawn upon the store, had never frittered his heart away.