“Well, upon my word, I’ve lived to hear something. Carry the street-door key about with you! I’ve heard of such things with young good-for-nothing bachelors, with nobody to care what became of ’em; but for a married man to leave his wife and children in a house with a door upon the latch - don’t talk to me about Chubb, it’s all the same - a great deal you must care for us. Yes, it’s very well for you to say that you only want the key for peace and quietness - what’s it to you, if I like to sit up? You’ve no business to complain; it can’t distress you. Now, it’s no use your talking; all I say is this, Caudle: if you send a man to put on any lock here, I’ll call in a policeman; as I’m your married wife, I will.
“No, I think when a man comes to have the street-door key, the sooner he turns bachelor altogether the better. I’m sure, Caudle, I don’t want to be any clog upon you. Now, it’s no use your telling me to hold my tongue, for I - What?
“I give you the headache, do I?
“No, I don’t, Caudle; it’s your club that gives you the headache; it’s your smoke, and your - well! if ever I knew such a man in all my life! there’s no saying a word to you! You go out, and treat yourself like an emperor - and come home at twelve at night, or any hour for what I know, and then you threaten to have a key, and - and - and - ”
“I did get to sleep at last,” says Caudle, “amidst the falling sentences of ‘take children into a lodging’ - ‘separate maintenance’ - ‘won’t be made a slave of’ - and so forth.”
LECTURE XIII - MRS. CAUDLE HAS BEEN TO SEE HER DEAR MOTHER. - CAUDLE, ON THE “JOYFUL OCCASION,” HAS GIVEN A PARTY, AND ISSUED A CARD OF INVITATION
“It is hard, I think, Mr. Caudle, that I can’t leave home for a day or two, but the house must be turned into a tavern: a tavern? - a pothouse! Yes, I thought you were very anxious that I should go; I thought you wanted to get rid of me for something, or you would not have insisted on my staying at dear mother’s all night. You were afraid I should get cold coming home, were you? Oh yes, you can be very tender, you can, Mr. Caudle, when it suits your own purpose. Yes! and the world thinks what a good husband you are! I only wish the world knew you as well as I do, that’s all; but it shall, some day, I’m determined.
“I’m sure the house will not be sweet for a month. All the curtains are poisoned with smoke; and what’s more, with the filthiest smoke I ever knew.
“Take ’em down, then?
“Yes, it’s all very well for you to say take ’em down; but they were only cleaned and put up a month ago; but a careful wife’s lost upon you, Mr. Caudle. You ought to have married somebody who’d have let your house go to wreck and ruin, as I will for the future. People who don’t care for their families are better thought of than those who do; I’ve long found out that.