And as she saw his broad, rather rounded back, Mrs.Bunting felt a sudden thrill of sharp irritation.

There he was, doing nothing--in fact, doing worse than nothing--wasting his time reading all about those horrid crimes.
She sighed--a long, unconscious sigh.

Bunting was getting into idle ways, bad ways for a man of his years.

But how could she prevent it?
He had been such an active, conscientious sort of man when they had first made acquaintance.

.