care a pin if we hadn't a roof to cover us--it's well enough for--no,
Caudle, no: I'm not going to worry you; I never worried you yet, and
it isn't likely I should begin now. But that's always the way with
you--always. I'm sure we should be the happiest couple alive, only
you do so like to have all the talk to yourself. We're out upon
pleasure, and therefore let's be comfortable. Still, I must say it:
when you like, you're an aggravating man, Caudle, and you know it.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?

"There, now; we won't talk of it. No; let's go to sleep: otherwise
we shall quarrel--I know we shall. What have you done, indeed! That
I can't leave my home for a few days, but I must be insulted!
Everybody upon the pier saw it.

"SAW WHAT?

"How can you lie there in the bed and ask me? Saw what, indeed! Of
course it was a planned thing!--regularly settled before you left
London. Oh yes! I like your innocence, Mr. Caudle; not knowing what
I'm talking about. It's a heart-breaking thing for a woman to say of
her own husband; but you've been a wicked man to me. Yes: and all
your tossing and tumbling about in the bed won't make it any better.

"Oh, it's easy enough to call a woman 'a dear soul.' I must be very
dear, indeed, to you, when you bring down Miss Prettyman to--there
now; you needn't shout like a wild savage. Do you know that you're
not in your own house--do you know that we're in lodgings? What do
you suppose the people will think of us? You needn't call out in
that manner, for they can hear every word that's said. What do you