“Am I?” he ejaculated, flinging himself into a chair. “S’pose I am—​what of that? I’m not wanted—​is that it?”

It was very evident from his tone of voice, as well as his manner, that he was in a quarrelsome mood.

His wife made no reply, but kept on with her work.

“You’re a deal too good for me—​you are,” he muttered. “Pity you threw yourself away upon me.”

Still no reply.

“D’yer hear what I am sayin’?” shouted out the ruffian, in a louder tone.

“Of course I do.”

“Then why don’t you answer?”

“I have answered.”

“No, yer haven’t, leastways not in a proper manner. D’yer think I’m a stock or a stone? Curse it, you’re always at work—​always.”