Both felt an unworthy suspicion of the other.
"I hope she will get well," Sylvia said, defiantly.

"Maybe she will.
This is her first shock." "God knows I hope she will," returned Henry, with equal defiance.
Each of the two was perfectly good and ungrasping, but each accused themselves and each other unjustly because of the possibilities of wrong feeling which they realized.

Sylvia did not understand how, in the face of such prosperity, she could wish Abrahama to get well, and she did not understand how her husband could, and Henry's mental attitude was the same.
Sylvia sat down and took some mending.

Henry seated himself opposite, and stared at her with gloomy eyes, which yet held latent sparks of joy.

"I wish Meeks hadn't told us," he said, angrily.
"So do I," said Sylvia.