The deadly monotony of it wearied him.

For the first time in his life his harness of duty chafed his spirit.

He was so tired of seeing the same train, the same commuters, taking the same path across the station to the ferry-boat, being jostled by the same throng, going to the same office, performing the same, or practically the same, duties, that his very soul was irritated.

He had reached a point where he not only needed but demanded a change, but the change was as impossible, without destruction, as for a planet to leave its orbit.
Ida saw the deepening of the frown on his forehead and the lengthening of the lines around his mouth.
"Poor old man!" said she.

"I wish I had a fortune to give you, so you wouldn't have to go." The words were fairly cooing, but the tone was still harsh.