you--can at once see whether a husband's well or not. You've been
turning like tallow all the week; and what's more, you eat nothing
now. It makes me melancholy to see you at a joint. I don't say
anything at dinner before the children; but I don't feel the less.
No, no; you're not very well; and you're not as strong as a horse.
Don't deceive yourself--nothing of the sort. No, and you don't eat
as much as ever: and if you do, you don't eat with a relish, I'm
sure of that. You can't deceive me there.

"But I know what's killing you. It's the confinement; it's the bad
air you breathe; it's the smoke of London. Oh yes, I know your old
excuse: you never found the air bad before. Perhaps not. But as
people grow older, and get on in trade--and, after all, we've nothing
to complain of, Caudle--London air always disagrees with 'em.
Delicate health comes with money: I'm sure of it. What a colour you
had once, when you'd hardly a sixpence; and now, look at you!

"'Twould add thirty years to your life--and think what a blessing
that would be to me; not that I shall live a tenth part of the time--
thirty years, if you'd take a nice little house somewhere at Brixton.

"YOU HATE BRIXTON?

"I must say it, Caudle, that's so like you: any place that's really
genteel you can't abide. Now Brixton and Baalam Hill I think
delightful. So select! There, nobody visits nobody, unless they're
somebody. To say nothing of the delightful pews that make the
churches so respectable!

"However, do as you like. If you won't go to Brixton, what do you