locomotion.

He had at first been enormously raised in his own self-esteem by his
engagement to a young and beautiful woman. He was permanently relieved
from the necessity of accounting to his friends for the fact that he was
still unmarried, reminding them that it was his own fault. Perhaps at
the bottom of his heart a fear lurked, implanted by the brutal Grenfell,
that he was going to be an old maid. That fear was now dispelled. It was
mercifully hidden from Wentworth that Grenfell and the Bishop and most
of his so-called friends would still so regard him even if he were
married.

But gradually and insensibly the many petty reasons for satisfaction
which his engagement to Fay had given him, and even the delight in being
loved, were overshadowed by a greater presence.

At first they had never been silent together. Wentworth liked to hear
his own voice, and prosed stolidly on for hours with exquisite enjoyment
and an eye to Fay's education at the same time, about his plans, his
aspirations, his past life (not that he had had one), the hollowness of
society (not that he knew anything about it), a man's need of solitude,
and the solace of a woman's devotion, its softening effect on a life
devoted hitherto, perhaps, too entirely to intellectual pursuits.

Fay did not listen to him very closely. She felt that his mind soared
beyond her ken. But she was greatly impressed, and repeated little bits
of what he had said to Magdalen afterwards. And she looked at him with
rapt adoration.

"Wentworth says that consideration in little things is what makes the
happiness of married life," she would announce pontifically.

"How true!"

"And he says social life ought to be simplified."

"Indeed! Does he happen to mention how it is to be done?"

"He says it ought to be regulated, and that everyone ought to be at
liberty to lead their own life, and not to be expected to attend cricket
matches and garden parties, if you are so constituted that you don't
find pleasure in them. I used to think I liked garden parties, Magdalen,
but I see I don't now. I care more for the big things of life now. Does
Everard ever talk to you like that when you and he are alone?"

"Never. Never."

"And Andrea never did, either. Wentworth is simply wonderful. You should
hear him speak about fame being shallow, and how the quiet mind looking
at things truly is everything, and peace not being to be found in the
market place, but in a walk by a stream