For once in his life Majendie was glad that he had a business.

Shipping (he was a ship-owner) was a distraction from the miserable problem that weighed on him at home.
Anne's morning face was cold to him.

She lay crushed in her bed.

She had had a bad night, and he knew himself to be the cause of it.
His pity for her hurt like passion.
"How is she ?" asked Edith, as he came into her room before going to the office.
"She's a wreck," he said, "a ruin.

She's had an awful night.