Isabella believed that he did not care whether she meant it or not . David Spencer left behind him a woman , calm outwardly , inwardly a seething volcano of anger , wounded pride , and thwarted will . He found precisely the same woman when he came home , tanned , joyous , tamed for a while of his wanderlust , ready , with something of real affection , to go back to the farm fields and the stock-yard . Isabella met him at the door , smileless , cold-eyed , set-lipped . `` What do you want here ? '' she said , in the tone she was accustomed to use to tramps and Syrian peddlers . `` Want ! '' David 's surprise left him at a loss for words . `` Want ! Why , I -- I -- want my wife . I 've come home . '' `` This is not your home . I 'm no wife of yours . You made your choice when you went away , '' Isabella had replied . Then she had gone in , shut the door , and locked it in his face . David had stood there for a few minutes like a man stunned . Then he had turned and walked away up the lane under the birches . He said nothing -- then or at any other time . From that day no reference to his wife or her concerns ever crossed his lips . He went directly to the harbor , and shipped with Captain Barrett for another voyage .
When he came back from that in a month 's time , he bought a small house and had it hauled XXXXX the `` Cove , '' a lonely inlet from which no other human habitation was visible .
From behind for in of that to under up whether