Nothing had happened to cause him grave anxiety, yet he had been below par for several hours.

Why was he working so hard?
Why was life to him such a concentration?
Why did he seek for more money and to get more power?
To whom could it go?
Not to Fabian; not to his wife.
To Tarboe--well, there was not enough in that! This man had only lately come into his life, and was only near to him in a business sense.

Carnac was near in every sense that really mattered, and Carnac was out of it all.
He was not loved, and in his heart of hearts he knew it, but he had had his own way, and he loved himself.

No one seemed to care for him, not even his wife.

How many years was it since they had roomed together?
Yet as he went towards his own home now, he recalled the day they were married, and for the first time had drawn as near to each other as life could draw.