John Galsworthy

“ He remembered how he had lain in a long cane chair in the window of his sitting-room off Victoria Street. Down below in a side street a man had banged at a door, a woman had cried out; he remembered, as though it were now, the sound of the scuffle, the slam of the door, the dead silence that followed. And then the early water-cart, cleansing the reek of the streets, had approached through the strange-seeming, useless lamp-light ”

“ To this she made no answer.
"Well," said Soames, "I want you to come out to the Stores with me, and after that we'll go to the Park."
"I don't want to go out; I have a headache."
Soames replied: "If ever I want you to do anything, you've always got a headache. It'll do you good to come and sit under the trees."
She did not answer.
Soames was silent for some minutes; at last he said: "I don't know what your idea of a wife's duty is. I never have known!" ”

“ Irene did not expect him. Not that he had any desire to spy on her actions, but there was no harm in thus unexpectedly surveying the scene.
After changing to Park clothes he went into the drawing-room. She was sitting idly in the corner of the sofa, her favourite seat; and there were circles under her eyes, as though she had not slept.
He asked: "How is it you're in? Are you expecting somebody?"
"Yes—that is, not particularly."
"Who?"
"Mr. Bosinney said he might come."
"Bosinney. He ought to be at work." ”