They spent a good deal—for them—on the honeymoon. George Augustus had a purse containing a lot of sovereigns and two £5 notes, with which he swanked intolerably. Isabel had never seen so much money at once and thought George Augustus was richer than ever. So she immediately began sending “useful presents” to the innumerable members of the impoverished Hartly family; and George Augustus, though annoyed—for he was fundamentally mean—let her. Altogether they spent £30 in a fortnight, and the first class fares back to Sheffield left mighty little change out of another £5 note. * * * * * The first great shock of Isabel’s life was her wedding night. The second was when she saw the dingy, smoke-blackened house of the “rich” Winterbournes, one of a row of highly desirable yellow-brick ten-roomed villas. The third was when she found that George Augustus earned nothing by his Profession, that he had no money but the balance of his £205, and that the Winterbournes were nearly as poor as the Hartlys. * * * * * Ghastly days that poor girl spent in that dreary little house during her first pregnancy, while George Augustus twiddled his thumbs in “the Office” (instead of in his “cosy study” as in his bachelor days) under pretence of “working”; while dear Papa prayed, and dear Mamma acid-sweetly nagged and humiliated her. Ghastly days when her morning sickness was treated as a “bilious attack.” “Too much rich food,” said dear Mamma, “of course, darling Isabel, you were not used to such a plentiful table at home”—and then playful-coyly-cattish—“we must really ask your dear husband to use his _authority_ to restrain your appetite.” In fact, the Hartlys, in a scratchy vulgarish way, enjoyed much more ample and varied food than that provided by dear Mamma’s cheese-paring genteely meagre table. Then, of course, there were rows. Isabel revolted, and displayed signs of that indomitable personality and talent for violent invective she afterwards developed to such Everest peaks of unpleasantness. Even dear Mamma found her match, but not before she had made Isabel miserably wretched for nearly two years and had permanently warped her character. Blessings upon you, dear Mamma, you “prayed for guidance,” you “did all for the best”—and you made Isabel into a first-class bitch. George Augustus was pained, deeply pained and surprised by these rows. He was still pretty comfortable, and couldn’t see why Isabel wasn’t. “Let us continue to be a loving, united family,” he would say, “let us bear with one another. We all have our burdens”—(e.g., thumb-twiddling and reading novels) “and all we need is a little more Luv, a little more Forbearance. We must pray for Strength and Guidance.”