The indictment he drew against Marian contained many "counts." He could not discuss the matter with his wife; he carefully kept from her the newspaper story of the smash-up.
The hotel to which the Willings had retired for repairs was mentioned, and Bassett resolved to go to Chicago and bring Marian home.
The best available train passed Waupegan Station at midnight, and he sat alone on his veranda that evening with anger against Marian still hot in his heart.

He had yet to apprise Mrs.Bassett of his intended journey, delaying the moment as long as possible to minimize her inevitable querulous moanings.

Blackford was in his room studying, and Bassett had grimly paced the veranda for half an hour when the nurse came down with a request that he desist from his promenade, as it annoyed Mrs.Bassett in her chamber above.
He thereupon subsided and retired to the darkest corner of the veranda.
A four-hour vigil lay before him, and he derived no calm from the still stars that faintly shadowed the quiet waters below.

He was assailed by torments reserved for those who, having long made others writhe without caring that they suffered, hear the swish of the lash over their own heads.

He had only lately been conscious of his growing irritability.