"NONSENSE?

"Of course; if I want anything it's always nonsense. Other men can
take their wives half over the world; but you think it quite enough
to bring me down here to this hole of a place, where I know every
pebble on the beach like an old acquaintance--where there's nothing
to be seen but the same machines--the same jetty--the same donkeys--
the same everything. But then, I'd forgot; Margate has an attraction
for you--Miss Prettyman's here. No; I'm not censorious, and I
wouldn't backbite an angel; but the way in which that young woman
walks the sands at all hours--there! there!--I've done: I can't open
my lips about that creature but you always storm.

"You know that I always wanted to go to France; and you bring me down
here only on purpose that I should see the French cliffs--just to
tantalise me, and for nothing else. If I'd remained at home--and it
was against my will I ever came here--I should never have thought of
France; but--to have it staring in one's face all day, and not be
allowed to go! it's worse than cruel, Mr. Caudle--it's brutal. Other
people can take their wives to Paris; but you always keep me moped up
at home. And what for? Why, that I may know nothing--yes; just on
purpose to make me look little, and for nothing else.

"HEAVEN BLESS THE WOMAN?

"Ha! you've good reason to say that, Mr. Caudle; for I'm sure she's
little blessed by you. She's been kept a prisoner all her life--has
never gone anywhere--oh yes! that's your old excuse,--talking of the
children. I want to go to France, and I should like to know what the
children have to do with it? They're not babies NOW--are they? But