he carries his head high with an assumption of genial frankness and
easy good temper. "Come and dine with us to-morrow, my boy," he will
say to an old acquaintance, "there'll only be yourself and a couple
of others besides ourselves. We'll go to the play afterwards." And
the acquaintance will most certainly discover, if he accepts the
invitation, that the "ourselves" included not only husband and wife,
but friend as well. He will also notice that the last is even more at
home in the house, and speaks in a tone of greater authority than the
apparent host. Everything is referred to him for decision, and the
master of the house treats him with a deferential humility which goes
far to contradict the cynical observation that there is no gratitude
on earth. The Tolerated Husband, indeed, never tires of dispensing
hospitality at the cost of his friend, and though the whole world
knows the case, there will never be a lack of guests to accept what
is offered.

At last, however, in spite of his toleration, he becomes an
encumbrance in his own house, and, like most encumbrances, he has to
be paid off, the friend providing the requisite annual income. One
after another he puts off the last remaining rags of his pretended
self-respect. He haunts his Clubs less and less frequently, and seems
to wither under the open dislike of those who are repelled by the
mean and sordid details of his despicable story. And thus he drags on
his life, a degraded and comparatively impoverished outcast, untidy,
haggard and shunned, having forfeited by the restriction of his
spending powers even the good-natured contempt of those who were
not too proud to be at one time mistaken for his friends.

* * * * *