At first I thought he was in some way alluding to her age, and to the fact that he had been deceived into supposing her young.
“What is monstrous?” I inquired, as he did not add anything.
“Why should she cook for us? Why should she come out in the wet to cook for us? Why should any woman cook for fourteen years without interruption?”
“She did it joyfully, Jellaby, for the comfort and sustenance of her husband, as every virtuous woman ought.”
“I think,” said he, “it would choke me.”
“What would choke you?”
“Food produced by the unceasing labour of my wife. Why should she be treated as a servant when she gets neither wages nor the privilege of giving notice and going away?”
“No wages? Her wages, young gentleman, are the knowledge that she has done her duty to her husband.”
“Thin, thin,” he murmured, digging his fork into the nearest sausage.
“And as for going away, I must say I am surprised you should connect such a thought with any respectable lady.”