He was fond of me--no man could be fonder of a friend.

And he was devoted to his wife.

He loved me to come here, and was forever sending for me.

And yet if his wife and I talked together or there seemed any sympathy between us, a kind of wave of jealousy would pass over him, and he would be off the handle and saying the wildest things in a moment.

More than once I've sworn off coming for that reason, and then he would write me such penitent, imploring letters that I just had to.