It was eleven o'clock that night when Mr. Pontellier returned from his night out. He was in an excellent humor, in high spirits, and very talkative. His entrance awoke his wife, who was in bed and fast asleep when he came in. He talked to her while he undressed, telling her anecdotes and bits of news and gossip that he had gathered during the day. She was overcome with sleep, and answered him with little half utterances. He thought it very discouraging that his wife, who was the sole object of his existence, showed so little interest in things which concerned him and valued so little his conversation. Mr. Pontellier had forgotten the candies and peanuts that he had promised the boys. Still, he loved them very much and went into the room where they slept to take a look at them and make sure that they were resting comfortably. The result of his investigation was far from satisfactory. He turned and shifted the youngsters about in bed. One of them began to kick and talk about a basket full of crabs. Mr. Pontellier returned to his wife with the information that Raoul had a high fever and needed looking after. Then he lit his cigar and went and sat near the open door to smoke it. Mrs. Pontellier was quite sure Raoul had no fever. He had gone to bed perfectly well, she said, and nothing had made him sick. Mr. Pontellier was too well familiar with fever symptoms to be mistaken. He assured her the child was burning with fever at that moment in the next room. He reproached his wife with her inattention, her habitual neglect of the children. If it was not a mother's place to look after children, whose on earth was it? He himself had his hands full with his business. He could not be in two places at once; making a living for his family on the street, and staying home to see that no harm done to them. _  Mrs. Pontellier sprang out of bed and went into the next room. She soon came back and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning her head down on the pillow. She said nothing, and refused to answer her husband when he questioned her. When his cigar was smoked out, he went to bed, and in half a minute was fast asleep. Mrs. Pontellier was by that time thoroughly awake. She began to cry a little, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her nightdress. She went out on the porch, where she sat down and began to rock herself in the chair. It was then past midnight. The cottages were all dark. There was no sound except the hooting of an old owl and the everlasting voice of the sea, which broke like a mournful lullaby   upon the night. The tears came so fast to Mrs. Pontellier's eyes that the damp sleeve of her nightdress no longer served to dry them. She went on crying there, not caring any longer to dry her face, her eyes, her arms. She could not have told why she was crying. Such experiences as had just happened were not uncommon in her married life. They seemed never before to have weighed much against theabundance   of her husband's kindness and a uniform devotion which had come to be self-understood. An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her whole being with vague pain. It was like a shadow, like a mist passing across her soul's summer day. It was strange and unfamiliar; it was a mood. She did not sit there inwardly scolding her husband, expressing sadness about Fate, which had directed her footsteps to the path which they had taken. She was just having a good cry all to herself. The mosquitoes succeeded in driving away a mood which might have held her there in the darkness half a night longer. The following morning Mr. Pontellier was up in good time to take the carriage which was to convey him to the ship. He was returning to the city to his business, and they would not see him again at the Island till the coming Saturday. He had regained his calmness, which seemed to have been somewhatweakened the night before. He was eager to be gone, as he looked forward to a lively week in the financial center. The writer would most likely describe Mr. Pontellier's conduct during the evening as   _  .
impatient and generous enthusiastic and responsible concerned and gentle inconsiderate and self-centered