The modus vivendi suited them better than divorce: that was apparent, or had been until recently.

Recently Leila Mortimer had changed--become subdued and softened to a degree that had perplexed her husband.

Her attitude toward him lacked a little of the bitterness and contempt she usually reserved for him in private; she had become more prudent, almost cautious at times.
"I'll tell you one thing," he said with a sudden snarl: "You'd better be careful there is no gossip about you and Plank." She reddened under the insult.
"Now we'll see," he continued venomously, "how far you can go alone." "Do you suppose," she asked calmly, "that I am afraid of a divorce court ?" The question so frankly astonished him that he sat agape, unable to reply.

For years he had very naturally supposed her to be afraid of it--afraid of not being qualified to obtain it.

Indeed, he had taken that for granted as the very corner-stone of their mutual toleration.
Had he been an ass to do so?
A vague alarm took possession of him; for, with that understanding, he had not been at all careful of his own behaviour, neither had he been at any particular pains to conceal his doings from her.