And now at forty he would risk almost nothing.
Where Michael was concerned Wentworth's love had reached the strength where it could act, indefatigably, if need be.

Michael had been so far the only creature who could move his brother's egotism beyond the refinements of bedridden sentiment.
It was as well for Fay that she did not realise, and absolutely essential for Wentworth that he did not realise either, that in spite of an undoubted natural attraction towards her he would have seen no more of her unless she had come within easy reach.
A common trouble had drawn them towards each other.

A common interest, a common joy or sorrow, a house within easy distance--these are some of the match makers between the invalids of life, who are not strong enough to want anything very much, or to work for what they want.

For them favourable circumstance is everything.
Wentworth could ride four and a half miles down a picturesque lane to see Fay.

But he could not have taken a journey by rail.
A few years before Wentworth met Fay he had been tepidly interested in the youthful sister of one of his college friends and contemporaries, an Oxford Don at whose house he stayed every year.