When Nelly was his wife he meant that every thought of his heart should belong to her.

He must see Mary Gray no more.

Yet as he pushed the thought of her away from him it came to him that another man might find the ugly gas-lit room, the wet winter streets with their bawling crowds and flaring lights, something of the same magical world that he had found them.

Supposing that man were Ilbert?
Well, supposing it were so, what business had he to resent it?
But however he might ask himself rhetorical questions, the jealousy of the natural man swept over him in passion and fury.

He said to himself that now he knew why he had always hated Ilbert.