what I have to say in the morning; I'll say it now. It's all very
well for you to come home at what time you like--it's now half-past
twelve--and expect I'm to hold my tongue, and let you go to sleep.
What next, I wonder? A woman had better be sold for a slave at once.

"And so you've gone and joined a club? The Skylarks, indeed! A
pretty skylark you'll make of yourself! But I won't stay and be
ruined by you. No: I'm determined on that. I'll go and take the
dear children, and you may get who you like to keep your house. That
is, as long as you have a house to keep--and that won't be long, I
know.

"How any decent man can go and spend his nights in a tavern!--oh,
yes, Mr. Caudle; I daresay you DO go for rational conversation. I
should like to know how many of you would care for what you call
rational conversation, if you had it without your filthy brandy-and-
water; yes, and your more filthy tobacco-smoke. I'm sure the last
time you came home, I had the headache for a week. But I know who it
is who's taking you to destruction. It's that brute, Prettyman. He
has broken his own poor wife's heart, and now he wants to--but don't
you think it, Mr. Caudle; I'll not have my peace of mind destroyed by
the best man that ever trod. Oh, yes! I know you don't care so long
as you can appear well to all the world,--but the world little thinks
how you behave to me. It shall know it, though--that I'm determined.

"How any man can leave his own happy fireside to go and sit, and
smoke, and drink, and talk with people who wouldn't one of 'em lift a
finger to save him from hanging--how any man can leave his wife--and
a good wife, too, though I say it--for a parcel of pot-companions--
oh, it's disgraceful, Mr. Caudle; it's unfeeling. No man who had the