Bruce also was fair, besides being tall, good-looking and well built.
Known by their friends for some reason as the little Ottleys, these two
were a rather fine-looking pair, and (at a casual glance) admirably
suited to one another. They appeared to be exactly like thousands of
other English married couples of the upper middle class between thirty
and forty; he looked as manly (through being sunburnt from knocking a
little ball over the links) as if he habitually went tiger-shooting;
but, though not without charm, he had much less distinction than his
wife. Most people smiled when Bruce's name was mentioned, and it was
usual for his intimates to clap him on the back and call him a silly
ass, which proves he was not unpopular. On the other hand, Edith was
described as a very pretty woman, or a nice little thing, and by the
more discriminating, jolly clever when you know her, and don't you
forget it.

When Bruce told his wife that no-one had ever regretted consulting him
on a difficult, secret, and delicate matter, Edith had said she was
quite sure they hadn't. Perhaps she thought no-one had ever regretted
consulting him on such a subject, simply because no-one had ever tried.

'Oh, please don't move, Edith,' he said, in the tone which means, 'Oh,
please do move.' 'I like to see you comfortable.'

There was something in his manner that made her feel apologetic, and she
changed her position with the feeling of guilt about nothing, and a
tinge of shame for something she hadn't done, easily produced by an air
of self-sacrifice Bruce was apt to show at such moments.

'Your hair's coming down, Edith,' he said kindly, to add to her vague
embarrassment.