To her it seemed that his foolishness was becoming a madness.

Martin knew this and suffered more keenly from it than from the open and nagging contempt of Bernard Higginbotham.

Martin had faith in himself, but he was alone in this faith.

Not even Ruth had faith.

She had wanted him to devote himself to study, and, though she had not openly disapproved of his writing, she had never approved.
He had never offered to show her his work.