"So much the worse…. The boy'll never do another honest day's work as long as he lives…. When they win, they 'as a drink for luck; when they loses, they 'as a drink to cheer them up."
"I'm afraid, Esther, you ought to have married the other chap. He'd have given you the life that you'd have been happy in. This public-'ouse ain't suited to you."
Esther turned round and her eyes met her husband's. There was a strange remoteness in his look, and they seemed very far from each other.
"I was brought up to think so differently," she said, her thoughts going back to her early years in the little southern seaside home. "I suppose this betting and drinking will always seem to me sinful and wicked. I should 'ave liked quite a different kind of life, but we don't choose our lives, we just makes the best of them. You was the father of my child, and it all dates from that."
"I suppose it do."
William lay on his back, and blew the smoke swiftly from his mouth.
"If you smoke much more we shan't be able to breathe in this room."
"I won't smoke no more. Shall I blow the candle out?"
"Yes, if you like."
When the room was in darkness, just before they settled their faces on the pillow for sleep, William said—