The old woman held out her hand to each of us in turn. Thereafter, she never touched me if she could avoid it. If I offered my hand, she would brush my fingers aside as if waving away a fly. She didn't enter our service that evening — that would have been unworthy, improper. She enlisted in it. As she was leaving, she said to my husband: "I wish the master good night." He stared after her. There was no man on the planet to whom this magnificent word might less apply. But that was how she addressed him until her dying day. It took a while for him to get used to his new title, and answer to it.
Does it mean: this magnificent word is appropriate for every man?
Source: The door: The novel by Magda szabo