Even in a friend's house they wrangled incessantly, and made tragi-comical revelations of their home life.

The husband worked casually at irresponsible journalism, but his chosen study was metaphysics; for many years he had had a huge and profound book on hand, which he believed would bring him fame, though he was not so unsettled in mind as to hope for anything else.

When an article or two had earned enough money for immediate necessities he went off to the British Museum, and then the difficulty was to recall him to profitable exertions.

Yet husband and wife had an affection for each other.

Mrs Christopherson came from Camberwell, where her father, once upon a time, was the smallest of small butchers.
Disagreeable stories were whispered concerning her earlier life, and probably the metaphysician did not care to look back in that direction.
They had had three children; all were happily buried.
These men were capable of better things than they had done or would ever do; in each case their failure to fulfil youthful promise was largely explained by the unpresentable wife.