She began to understand his nature as she had not understood it in all these years.  Bits of his mother’s brief comment upon him came back to her; uncomprehensible when she first heard them, they were curiously illuminating now.  He had been a naturally good boy, awkward, silent, conscientious; turning toward integrity as normally as many of his companions turned toward vice.  Despite his natural shyness, his diffidence of manner, he had been strong himself and had scorned weakness in anyone; upright, he needed little guiding.  The praise of servants and of his mother’s friends had been quite frankly his; even his severe mother and father had been able to find little fault in the boy.  But they had early learned that when a minor correction was demanded by their first-born’s character, it was almost impossible to effect it.  His standard of behavior was high, fortunately, for it was also unalterable.  There was no hope of their grafting upon his conscience any new roots.  James knew right from wrong with infallible instinct; he was not often wrong, but when he was, no outside criticism affected him.  As a baby, he would defend his rare misdeeds, as a boy, he was never thrashed, because there was always some good reason for what he did.  He had been misinformed, he certainly understood the other fellows to say this; he certainly never heard the teacher forbid that; handsome, reasonable, self-respecting, he won approval on all sides, and because of this mysterious predisposition toward what was right and just, came safely to the years when he was his own master and could live unchallenged by the high moral standard he set himself.

Some of this Rachael began to perceive.  It was a key to his conduct now.  He respected Magsie, he admired her; there was no reason why he should not indulge his admiration.  No unspoken criticism from his wife could affect him, because he had seen the whole situation clearly and had decided what was seemly and safe in the matter.  Criticism only brought a resentful, dull red color to Warren Gregory’s face, and confirmed him more stubbornly in the course he was pursuing.  He could even enjoy a certain martyr-like satisfaction under undeserved censure, all censure being equally incomprehensible and undeserved.  Rachael had once seen in this quality a certain godlike supremacy, a bigness, and splendidness of vision that rose above the ordinary standards of ordinary men; now it filled her with uneasiness.

“Well,” she thought, with a certain desperate philosophy, “in a certain number of months or years this will all be over, and I must simply endure it until that time comes.  Life is full of trouble, anyway!”