I felt cramped and shut in.

In spite of myself the question would arise in my mind whether John really understood my nature.

He had a way of reading the newspaper, propped up against the sugar-bowl, at breakfast, that somehow made me feel as if things had gone all wrong.

It was bitter to realize that the time had come when John could prefer the newspaper to his wife's society.
But perhaps I had better go back and tell the whole miserable story from the beginning.
I shall never forget--I suppose no woman ever does--the evening when John first spoke out his love for me.

I had felt for some time past that it was there.