“I thought when you would make me leave home - I thought we were coming here on pleasure: but it’s always the way you embitter my life. The sooner that I’m out of the world the better. What do you say?
“Nothing?
“But I know what you mean, better than if you talked an hour. I only hope you’ll get a better wife, that’s all, Mr. Caudle. What?
“You’d not try?
“Wouldn’t you? I know you. In six months you’d fill up my place; yes, and dreadfully my dear children would suffer for it.
“Caudle, if you roar in that way, the people will give us warning to-morrow.
“Can’t I be quiet, then?
“Yes - that’s like your artfulness: anything to make me hold my tongue. But we won’t quarrel. I’m sure if it depended upon me, we might be as happy as doves. I mean it - and you needn’t groan when I say it. Good-night, Caudle. What do you say?
“Bless me!
“Well, you are a dear soul, Caudle; and if it wasn’t for that Miss Prettyman - no, I’m not torturing you. I know very well what I’m doing, and I wouldn’t torture you for the world; but you don’t know what the feelings of a wife are, Caudle; you don’t.