breaking the china, and nobody knows what--I say, I've seen all these
balls--well, I know I've said that before; but I choose to say it
again--and there's not one of 'em, iron as they are, that could do
half the mischief of a billiard-ball. That's a ball, Caudle, that's
gone through many a wife's heart, to say nothing of her children.
And that's a ball, that night and day you'll be destroying your
family with. Don't tell me you'll not play! When once a man's given
to it--as my poor aunt used to say--the devil's always tempting him
with a ball, as he tempted Eve with an apple.

"I shall never think of being happy any more. No; that's quite out
of the question. You'll be there every night--I know you will,
better than you, so don't deny it--every night over that wicked green
cloth. Green, indeed! It's red, crimson red, Caudle, if you could
only properly see it--crimson red, with the hearts those balls have
broken. Don't tell me not to be pathetic--I shall: as pathetic as
it suits me. I suppose I may speak. However, I've done. It's all
settled now. You're a billiard-player, and I'm a wretched woman."


"I did not deny either position," writes Caudle, "and for this
reason--I wanted to sleep."



LECTURE THE LAST--MRS. CAUDLE HAS TAKEN COLD; THE TRAGEDY OF THIN
SHOES