a
misfortune, but had he not borne that misfortune lightly, minimized it
and endeavoured to teach others to bear it lightly? His blithe humour
ought surely to have been an example to Nellie! And as for the episode
of the funeral march on the Pianisto, really, really, the tiresome
little thing ought to have better appreciated his whimsical drollery!

But Nellie was altered; he was altered; everything was altered.
He remembered the ecstasy of their excursion to Switzerland. He
remembered the rapture with which, on their honeymoon, he had clasped
a new opal bracelet on her exciting arm. He could not possibly have
such sensations now. What was the meaning of life? Was life worth
living? The fact was--he was growing old. Useless to pretend to
himself that it was not so. Both he and she were growing old. Only,
she seemed to be placidly content, and he was not content. And more
and more the domestic atmosphere and the atmosphere of the district
fretted and even annoyed him. To-night's affair was not unique. But it
was a culmination. He gazed pessimistically north and south along
the slimy expanse of Trafalgar Road, which sank northwards in the
direction of Dr. Stirling's, and southwards in the direction of joyous
Hanbridge. He loathed and despised Trafalgar Road. What was the use
of making three hundred and forty-one pounds by a shrewd speculation?
None. He could not employ three hundred and forty-one pounds to
increase his happiness. Money had become futile for him. Astounding
thought! He desired no more of it! He had a considerable income from
investments, and also at least four thousand a year from the Five
Towns Universal Thrift Club, that wonderful but unpretentious
organization which now embraced every corner of the Five Towns--that
gorgeous invention for profitably taking care of the pennies of the
working-classes--that excellent device, his own, for selling to the
working-classes every kind of goods at credit prices after having
received part of the money in advance!

"I want a change!" he said to himself, and threw away his cigar.

After all, the bitterest thought in his heart was, perhaps, that, on
that evening he had tried to be a "card," and, for the first time in
his brilliant career as a "card," had failed. He, Henry Machin, who
had been the youngest Mayor of Bursley years and years ago, he,
the recognized amuser of the Five Towns, he, one of the greatest
"characters" that the Five Towns had ever produced! He