her
that he was detained nightly in the club till three.

I was miserable next day, and blamed the deviled kidneys for it. Whether
William was unfaithful to his wife was nothing to me, but I had two
plain reasons for insisting on his going straight home from his club:
the one that, as he had made me lose a bet, I must punish him; the other
that he could wait upon me better if he went to bed betimes.

Yet I did not question him. There was something in his face that--Well,
I seemed to see his dying wife in it.

I was so out of sorts that I could eat no dinner. I left the club.
Happening to stand for some time at the foot of the street, I chanced
to see the girl Jenny coming, and--No; let me tell the truth, though the
whole club reads: I was waiting for her.

"How is William's wife to-day?" I asked.

"She told me to nod three times," the little slattern replied; "but she
looked like nothink but a dead one till she got the brandy.

"Hush, child!" I said, shocked. "You don't know how the dead look."

"Bless yer," she answered, "don't I just! Why, I've helped to lay 'em
out. I'm going on seven."

"Is William good to his wife?"

"Course he is. Ain't she his missis?"

"Why should that make him good to her?" I asked, cynically, out of my
knowledge of the poor. But the girl, precocious in many ways, had never
had any opportunities of studying the lower classes in the newspapers,
fiction, and club talk. She shut one eye, and, looking up wonderingly,
said:

"Ain't you green--just!"

"When does William reach home at night?"

"'Tain't night; it's morning. When I wakes up at half dark and half
light, and hears a door shutting, I know as it's either father going off
to his work or Mr. Hicking come home from his."

"Who is Mr. Hicking?"

"Him as we've been speaking on--William. We calls him mister, 'cause
he's a toff. Father's just doing jobs in Covent Gardens, but Mr.
Hicking, he's a waiter, and a clean shirt every day. The old woman would
like father to be a waiter, but he hain't got the 'ristocratic look."

"What old woman?"

"Go 'long! that's my mother. Is it true there's a waiter in the club
just for to open the door?"

"Yes; but--"

"And another just for to lick the stamps? My!"

"William leaves the club at one o'clock?" I said, interrogatively.

She nodded. "My mother," she said, "is one to talk, and she says Mr.
Hicking as he should get away at twelve, 'cause his missis needs him
more'n the gentlemen