"I will leave you to your own tedium, which must be acrid enough, I imagine, to judge from the face you generally wear." And she haughtily withdrew.
A scene of this kind--never more violent, always checked at the right moment--occurred between them about once every month.

During the rest of their time they lived without mutual aggression; seldom conversing, but maintaining the externals of ordinary domestic intercourse.

Nor was either of them acutely unhappy.

The old man (Jerome Otway was sixty-five, but might have been taken for seventy) did not, as a rule, wear a sour countenance; he seldom smiled, but his grave air had no cast of gloominess; it was profoundly meditative, tending often to the rapture of high vision.

The lady had her own sufficient pursuits, chief among them a rigid attention to matters ecclesiastical, local and national.