When these two new and undeniable facts were put side by side, Michael felt that he was an infinite gainer.
He went rather drearily to the window.

Far off across the field below the garden he could see Lord Ashbridge walking airily along on his way to the links, with his head held high, his stick swinging in his hand, his two retrievers at his heels.

No doubt already the soothing influences of Nature were at work--Nature, of course, standing for the portion of trees and earth and houses that belonged to him--and were expunging the depressing reflection that his wife and only son inspired in him.

And, indeed, such was actually the case: Lord Ashbridge, in his amazing fatuity, could not long continue being himself without being cheered and invigorated by that fact, and though when he set out his big white hands were positively trembling with passion, he carried his balsam always with him.

But he had registered to himself, even as Michael had registered, the fact that he found his son a most intolerable person.