filth and disorder, quarrelling and misery? Young men are bad
enough, I know that; they want to begin where their fathers left
off, and if they can't do it honestly, they'll embezzle or forge.
But you'll often find there's a worthless wife at the bottom of it,
--worrying and nagging because she has a smaller house than some
other woman, because she can't get silks and furs, and wants to ride
in a cab instead of an omnibus. It is astounding to me that they
don't get their necks wrung. Only wait a bit; we shall come to that
presently!'

It was a rare thing for Stephen Lord to talk at such length. He
ceased with a bitter laugh, and sat down again in his chair. Horace
and his sister waited.

'I've no more to say,' fell from their father at length. 'Go and
talk about it together, if you like.'

Horace moved sullenly towards the door, and with a glance at his
sister went out. Nancy, after lingering for a moment, spoke.

'I don't think you need have any fear of it, father.'

'Perhaps not. But if it isn't that one, it'll be another like her.
There's not much choice for a lad like Horace.'

Nancy changed her purpose of leaving the room, and drew a step
nearer.

'Don't you think there _might_ have been?'