, he would scarcely have thriven
as he did in the City. When he had grown accustomed to rattling loose
silver in his pocket, the next thing, as a matter of course, was that
he accustomed himself to pay far too frequent visits to City bars. On
certain days in the week he invariably came home with a very red face
and a titubating walk; when Bessie received him angrily, he defended
himself on the great plea of business necessities. As a town traveller
there was no possibility, he alleged, of declining invitations to
refresh himself; just as incumbent upon him was it to extend casual
hospitality to those with whom he had business.

'Business! Fiddle!' cried Bessie. 'All you City fellows are the same.
You encourage each other in drink, drink, drinking whenever you have a
chance, and then you say it's all a matter of business. I won't have
you coming home in that state, so there! I won't have a husband as
drinks! Why, you can't stand straight.'

'Can't stand straight!' echoed Sam, with vast scorn. 'Look here!'

And he shouldered the poker, with the result that one of the globes on
the chandelier came in shivers about his head. This was too much.
Bessie fumed, and for a couple of hours the quarrel was unappeasable.

Worse was to come. Sam occasionally stayed out very late at night, and
on his return alleged a 'business appointment.' Bessie at length
refused to accept these excuses; she couldn't and wouldn't believe them.

'Then don't!' shouted Sam. 'And understand that I shall come home just
when I like. If you make a bother I won't come home at all, so there
you have it!'

'You're a bad husband and a beast!' was Bessie's retort.

Shortly after that Bessie received information of such grave misconduct
on her husband's part that she all but resolved to forsake the house,
and with the children seek refuge under her parents' roof at Woolwich.
Sam had been seen in indescribable company; no permissible words would
characterise the individuals with whom he had roamed shamelessly on the
pavement of Oxford Street. When he next met her, quite sober and with
exasperatingly innocent expression, Bessie refused to open her lips.
Neither that evening nor the next would she utter a word to him--and
the effort it cost her was tremendous. The result was, that on the
third evening Sam did not appear.

It was a week after Clem's trial. Jane had been keeping to herself as
much as possible, but, having occasion to go down into the kitchen