"I cannot believe it, Hugh; I cannot bring myself to think that you will be so cruel."
"Look here, Hermy, if you take to calling names I won't stand it."
"And I won't stand it, either. What am I to do? Am I to be here in this dreadful barrack of a house all alone? How would you like it? Would you bear it for one month, let alone four or five? I won't remain here; I tell you that fairly."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I don't want to go anywhere, but I'll go away somewhere and die;—I will indeed. I'll destroy myself, or something."
"Psha!"
"Yes; of course it's a joke to you. What have I done to deserve this? Have I ever done anything that you told me not? It's all because of Hughy,—my darling,—so it is; and it's cruel of you, and not like a husband; and it's not manly. It's very cruel. I didn't think anybody would have been so cruel as you are to me." Then she broke down and burst into tears.
"Have you done, Hermy?" said her husband.
"No; I've not done."
"Then go on again," said he.