"WHAT'S THE MATTER NOW?

"Well, I like that. Upon my life, Mr. Caudle, that's very cool. I
can't leave the house just to buy a yard of riband, but you storm
enough to carry the roof off.

"YOU DIDN'T STORM? YOU ONLY SPOKE?

"Spoke, indeed! No, sir: I've not such superfine feelings; and I
don't cry out before I'm hurt. But you ought to have married a woman
of stone, for you feel for nobody: that is, for nobody in your own
house. I only wish you'd show some of your humanity at home, if ever
so little--that's all.

"What do you say?

"WHERE'S MY FEELINGS, TO GO SHOPPING AT NIGHT?

"When would you have me go? In the broiling sun, making my face like
a gipsy's? I don't see anything to laugh at, Mr. Caudle; but you
think of anybody's face before your wife's. Oh, that's plain enough;
and all the world can see it. I dare say, now, if it was Miss
Prettyman's face--now, now, Mr. Caudle! What are you throwing
yourself about for? I suppose Miss Prettyman isn't so wonderful a
person that she isn't to be named? I suppose she's flesh and blood.
What?

"YOU DON'T KNOW?

"Ha! I don't know that.