“Well, now it is come to something! If that isn’t insulting a wife to bring a book to bed, I don’t know what wedlock is. But you sha’n’t read, Caudle; no, you sha’n’t; not while I’ve strength to get up and put out a candle.
“And that’s like your feelings! You can think a great deal of trumpery books; yes, you can’t think too much of the stuff that’s put into print; but for what’s real and true about you, why, you’ve the heart of a stone. I should like to know what that book’s about. What!
“Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost’?
“I thought some rubbish of the sort - something to insult me. A nice book, I think, to read in bed; and a very respectable person he was who wrote it.
“What do I know of him?
“Much more than you think. A very pretty fellow, indeed, with his six wives. What?
“He hadn’t six - he’d only three?
“That’s nothing to do with it; but of course you’ll take his part. Poor women! A nice time they had with him, I dare say! And I’ve no doubt, Mr. Caudle, you’d like to follow Mr. Milton’s example; else you wouldn’t read the stuff he wrote. But you don’t use me as he treated the poor souls who married him. Poets, indeed! I’d make a law against any of ’em having wives, except upon paper; for goodness help the dear creatures tied to them! Like innocent moths lured by a candle! Talking of candles, you don’t know that the lamp in the passage is split to bits! I say you don’t - do you hear me, Mr. Caudle? Won’t you answer? Do you know where you are? What?
“In the Garden of Eden?
“Are you? Then you’ve no business there at this time of night.”