Along with his scarcely confessed exultation over his good-fortune he was conscious of an odd indignation.

For years he had cherished a sense of injury at his treatment at the hands of Providence; now he felt like a child who, pushing hard against opposition to his desires, has that opposition suddenly removed, and tumbles over backward.

Henry had an odd sensation of having ignominiously tumbled over backward, and he missed, with ridiculous rancor, his sense of injury which he had cherished for so many years.
After kicking against the pricks for so long, he had come to feel a certain self-righteous pleasure in it which he was now forced to forego.
Sylvia regarded her husband uneasily.

Her state of mind had formerly been the female complement of his, but the sense of possession swerved her more easily.

"What on earth ails you, Henry Whitman ?" she said.