"We were talking shop," said McClintock, rising. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. "We work together no more. Her dress, it has just been said, was neatness and simplicity itself. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. ’ If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. All his dreams shattered in an instant.
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