speak. I know what colour is, and I say it WAS paint. I believe,
Mr. Caudle, _I_ once had a complexion--though of course you've quite
forgotten that: I think I once had a colour--before your conduct
destroyed it. Before I knew you, people used to call me the Lily and
Rose; but--what are you laughing at? I see nothing to laugh at. But
as I say, anybody before your own wife.

"And I can't walk out with you but you're bowed to by every woman you
meet!

"WHAT DO I MEAN BY EVERY WOMAN, WHEN IT'S ONLY MISS PRETTYMAN?

"That's nothing at all to do with it. How do I know who bows to you
when I'm not by? Everybody of course. And if they don't look at
you, why you look at them. Oh! I'm sure you do. You do it even
when I'm out with you, and of course you do it when I'm away. Now,
don't tell me, Caudle--don't deny it. The fact is, it's become such
a dreadful habit with you, that you don't know when you do it, and
when you don't. But I do.

"Miss Prettyman, indeed! What do you say?

"YOU WON'T LIE STILL AND HEAR ME SCANDALISE THAT EXCELLENT YOUNG
WOMAN?

"Oh, of course you'll take her part! Though, to be sure, she may not
be so much to blame after all. For how is she to know you're
married? You're never seen out of doors with your own wife--never.
Wherever you go, you go alone. Of course people think you're a
bachelor. What do you say?