Hurstwood was a man of authority and some fine feeling, and it
irritated him excessively to find himself surrounded more and
more by a world upon which he had no hold, and of which he had a
lessening understanding.

Now, when such little things, such as the proposed earlier start
to Waukesha, came up, they made clear to him his position. He
was being made to follow, was not leading. When, in addition, a
sharp temper was manifested, and to the process of shouldering
him out of his authority was added a rousing intellectual kick,
such as a sneer or a cynical laugh, he was unable to keep his
temper. He flew into hardly repressed passion, and wished
himself clear of the whole household. It seemed a most
irritating drag upon all his desires and opportunities.

For all this, he still retained the semblance of leadership and
control, even though his wife was straining to revolt. Her
display of temper and open assertion of opposition were based
upon nothing more than the feeling that she could do it. She had
no special evidence wherewith to justify herself--the knowledge
of something which would give her both authority and excuse. The
latter was all that was lacking, however, to give a solid
foundation to what, in a way, seemed groundless discontent. The
clear proof of one overt deed was the cold breath needed to
convert the lowering clouds of suspicion into a rain of wrath.

An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurstwood had come.
Doctor Beale, the handsome resident physician of the
neighbourhood, met Mrs. Hurstwood at her own doorstep some days