have vied with each
other in showing her affectionate attention. For the deserted lady I
tried to feel sorry, but could not avoid the reflection that it
would have been better for all parties had she been less patient and
forgiving. Her husband was evidently much more suited to the Signora.

Indeed, the relationship between these two was more a true marriage than
one generally meets with. No pair of love-birds could have been more
snug together. In their virtues and failings alike they fitted each
other. When sober the immorality of their behaviour never troubled them;
in fact, when sober nothing ever troubled them. They laughed, joked,
played through life, two happy children. To be shocked at them was
impossible. I tried it and failed.

But now and again there came an evening when they were not sober. It
happened when funds were high. On such occasion the O'Kelly would return
laden with bottles of a certain sweet champagne, of which they were both
extremely fond; and a friend or two would be invited to share in the
festivity. Whether any exceptional quality resided in this particular
brand of champagne I am not prepared to argue; my own personal
experience of it has prompted me to avoid it for the rest of my life.
Its effect upon them was certainly unique. Instead of intoxicating them,
it sobered them: there is no other way of explaining it. With the third
or fourth glass they began to take serious views of life. Before the end
of the second bottle they would be staring at each other, appalled
at contemplation of their own transgression. The Signora, the tears
streaming down her pretty face, would declare herself a wicked, wicked
woman; she had dragged down into shame the most blameless, the most
virtuous of men. Emptying her glass, she would bury her face in her
hands, and with her elbows on her knees, in an agony of remorse, sit
rocking to and fro. The O'Kelly, throwing himself at her feet, would
passionately abjure her to "look up." She had, it appeared, got hold of
the thing at the wrong end; it was he who had dragged her down.

At this point metaphor would become confused. Each had been dragged
down by the other one and ruined; also each one was the other one's good
angel. All that was commendable in the Signora, she owed to the O'Kelly.
Whatever was not discreditable about the O'Kelly was in the nature of a
loan from the Signora. With the help of more champagne the right course
would grow plain to them. She wo