“She must,” said Jenny. “And, would you believe it, though she has treated him so shamefully yet he loves her still.” “Why do you think so, Jenny,” said Mrs. Quiggin. “Because,” said Jenny, “though he is always sober when I see him I suspect that he is drinking himself to death. He said as much.” “Poor fellow!” said Mrs. Quiggin. “But men should not take these things so much to heart. Such women are not worth it.” “No, are they?” said Jenny. “They have hardly a right to live,” said Mrs. Quiggin. “No, have they?” said Jenny. “There should be a law to put down nagging wives the same as biting dogs,” said Mrs. Quiggin. “Yes, shouldn’t there?” said Jenny. “Once on a time men took their wives like their horses on trial for a year and a day, and really with some women there would be something to say for the old custom.” “Yes, wouldn’t there?” said Jenny. “The woman who is nothing of herself apart from her husband, and has no claim to his consideration, except on the score of his love, and yet uses him only to abuse him, and takes his very ‘money, having none of her own, and still----” “Did I say she took his money, Nelly?” said Jenny. “Well of course--not to be unfair--some men are such generous fools, you know--he may have given it to her.” “No matter; taken or given, she has got it, I suppose, and is living on it now.” “Oh, yes, certainly, that’s very sure,” said Jenny; “but then she’s his wife, you see, and naturally her maintenance----” “Maintenance!” cried Mrs. Quig-gin. “How many children has she got?” “None,” said Jenny. “At least I haven’t heard of any.” “Then she ought to be ashamed of herself for thinking of such a thing.” “I quite agree with you, Nelly,” said Jenny. “If I were a man,” said Mrs. Quiggin, “and my wife turned me out of doors----” “Did I say that, Nelly? Well not exactly that--no, not turned him out of doors exactly, Nelly.” “It’s all one, Jenny. If a woman behaves so that her husband can not live with her what is she doing but turning him out of doors?” “But, Nelly!” cried Jenny, rising suddenly. “What about Captain Davy?” Then there was a blank silence. Mrs. Quiggin had been borne along on the torrent of her indignation, brooking no objection, and sweeping down every obstacle, until brought up sharply by Jenny’s question--like a river that flows fastest and makes most noise where the bowlders in its course are biggest, but breaks itself at last against the brant sides of some impassable rock. She drew her breath in one silent spasm, turned from feverish red to deadly pale, quivered about the mouth, twitched about the eyelids, rose stiffly on her half-rigid limbs, and then fell on Jenny with loud and hot reproaches. “How dare you, Jenny Crow?” she cried. “Dare what, my dear?” said Jenny. “Say that I’ve turned my husband out of doors, and that I’ve taken his money, and that I am a cat and shrew, and a nagger, and that there ought to be a law to put me down.”