"Whose fault is that? Why shouldn't she be happy? Of course you know what it means. She has got round you because she wants to be a fine lady. What means have you to make her a fine lady? If you was to die to-morrow what would there be for any of 'em? My little bit of money is all gone. Let her stay here and be made to marry Lawrence Twentyman. That's what I say."
"She will never marry Mr. Twentyman."
"Not if you go on like this she won't. If you'd done your duty by her like a real father instead of being afraid of her when she puts on her tantrums, she'd have been at Chowton Farm by this time."
It was clear to him that now was the time not to be afraid of his wife when she put on her tantrums,—or at any rate, to appear not to be afraid. "She has been very unhappy of late."
"Oh, unhappy! She's been made more of than anybody else in this house."
"And a change will do her good. She has my permission to go;—and go she shall!" Then the word had been spoken.
"She shall!"
"It is very much for the best. While she is here the house is made wretched for us all."
"It'll be wretcheder yet; unless it would make you happy to see me dead on the threshold,—which I believe it would. As for her, she's an ungrateful, sly, wicked slut."
"She has done nothing wicked that I know of."