This fact could hardly be inferred from his Diary, and indeed
he was wholly unconscious of it himself, because he never realised
his natural charm, and indeed was unduly afraid of boring people by
his presence.
He was not exactly a hard worker, but he was singularly regular;
indeed, though he sometimes took a brief holiday after writing a
book, he seldom missed a day without writing some few pages. One of
the reasons why they paid so few visits was that he tended, as he
told me, to feel so much bored away from his work. It was at once
his occupation and his recreation. He was not one of those who
write fiercely and feverishly, and then fall into exhaustion; he
wrote cheerfully and temperately, and never appeared to feel the
strain. They lived quietly, but a good many friends came and went.
He much preferred to have a single quest, or a husband and wife, at
a time, and pursued his work quietly all through. He used to see
that one had all one could need, and then withdrew after tea-time,
not reappearing until dinner. His wife, it was evident, was devoted
to him with an almost passionate adoration. The reason why life
went so easily there was that she studied unobtrusively his
smallest desires and preferences; and thus there was never any
sense of special contrivance or consideration for his wishes: the
day was arranged exactly as he liked, without his ever having to
insist upon details.
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