"You can't kidd me, Doss. You know it, too. I think of our own billing and cooing, sir--his and mine. I was not a draw in those days; the last turn in the bill at the "Middlesex" was about my mark, and Doss, he hadn't risen, neither. We used to walk 'ome that lovin' up Drury Lane, and Doss, he would say, 'fish, Tilda,' and I would say, 'if you could fancy a bit, Sam.' And in he would pop for two penny slices and chips. And eat--lor', how we did eat. When I look back on that fish, sometimes I could cry. Money and fame ain't everythink in the world, believe me, they ain't. You may be 'appy in your 'umbleness." All this was gall and wormwood to John Chetwynd, and he approached his wife again and whispered. "It is getting late--are these people never going?" "Not until they have had supper, most certainly." "And do you expect my friend to join you?" "You can please yourselves. I don't think either of you would be much acquisition in your present frame of mind. Mrs. Doss, somebody interrupted you; you were talking about a kindred soul and an attic. Money and position are not everything you were saying. I agree with you. Give me an easy life and no stilts." John Chetwynd could stand it no longer. "Madam," he said, addressing Mrs. Doss; "I must really apologise, but Mr. Meynell and I have important business to discuss, and--" Mrs. Doss might be vulgar, but she was not obtuse. Seeing she and her husband were not wanted, she sprang to her feet. "Sam--right about face; we must be off 'ome." "Nonsense, you must have some supper before you go," said Bella. "Oh, I think we will be toddling, thanks. Are you coming with us, Saidie?" "No, I'm not," returned that young woman, sturdily. "Since this house is the joint property of Dr. John Chetwynd and his wife, I reckon I shall stop awhile. Bella, you are not going to turn me out, are you?" "Not I. I can't imagine what Jack means by behaving so inhospitably. I hope you will all stop." But Mr. Doss, exceedingly affronted at the slight offered him, had tucked his wife's arm under his own and was already at the door. "Good night, gents. My best respects to you, Mrs. Chetwynd, but we knows who wants us and who doesn't." Bella turned indignantly to her husband. "And you call yourself a gentleman!" she cried. "For heaven's sake remember we are not alone!" whispered Chetwynd in distress, "you have distinguished yourself quite enough." "I don't care--you have insulted my friends." "Friends!" "Yes, and as good as you or I. What did you marry me for if you are ashamed of my connections?" "I did not marry the whole variety stage." At this juncture Meynell rose. "Awfully sorry, but I must be going old chap, promised to look in again at the club." And Chetwynd did not press him to stay. Humiliated to the last degree, he followed him downstairs. "I have given you a very enjoyable evening, Meynell," he said bitterly. "My dear fellow, what ought I to say?"