Homecomings by C.P. Snow

WHEN I was alone, I thought sometimes of the warning Margaret had not spoken. But neither of us so much as hinted at it, until a night over a year later, a night still unshadowed, when we had Gilbert and Betty Cooke to dinner.

To my surprise – I had expected the worst, and got it wrong – that marriage was lasting. They often came to see us since – also to my surprise – Betty and Margaret had become reconciled. Thus, by the most unexpected of back doors, Gilbert's inquisitiveness at last found our house wide open. That inquisitiveness, however, had lost its edge. We had looked for every reason for his wanting to marry Betty except the simple one; but he was devoted to his wife, and humbly, energetically, gratefully, he was engrossed in making the marriage comfortable for her.