Did she know that in that moment the hunger and thirst after righteousness raged more fiercely than any earthly appetite?
It seemed to him that in her look he read pity and perfect comprehension.

He hid his face in his hands.
After that night he began to have a nervous dread of going into her room.

He was always afraid that she would "say something." By this time his senses, too, were morbidly acute.

The sight and smell of drugs, dressings, and disinfectants afflicted him with an agony of sensation.
There was no escaping these things in the little flat, and he could not help associating his wife with them: it seemed as if a crowd of trivial and sordid images was blotting out the delicate moral impressions he had once had.

Tyson was paying the penalty of having lived the life of the senses; his brain had become their servant, and he was horrified to find that he could not command its finest faculties at pleasure.
There was no disguising the detestable truth.