Monck was not the sort of man to attract women; he cared so little about them--this silent watcher whose eyes were ever searching below the surface of Eastern life, who studied and read and knew so much more than any one else and yet who guarded knowledge and methods so closely that only those in contact with his daily life suspected what he hid.
"He will surprise us all some day," Dacre placidly reflected.

"Those quiet, ambitious chaps always soar high.

But I wouldn't change places.
with him even if he wins to the top of the tree.

People who make a specialty of hard work never get any fun out of anything.

By the time the fun comes along, they are too old to enjoy it." And so he lay at ease in his chair, feasting his eyes upon his young wife's grave face, savouring life with the zest of the epicurean, placidly at peace with all the world on that night of dreams.
It was growing late, and the moon had topped the distant peaks sending a flood of light across the sleeping valley before he finally threw away the stump of his cigar and stretched forth a lazy arm to draw her to him.
"Why so silent, Star of my heart?
Where are those wandering thoughts of yours ?" She submitted as usual to his touch, passively, without enthusiasm.