"Of course; if I want anything it's always nonsense. Other men can take their wives half over the world; but you think it quite enough to bring me down here to this hole of a place, where I know every pebble on the beach like an old acquaintance--where there's nothing to be seen but the same machines--the same jetty--the same donkeys-- the same everything. But then, I'd forgot; Margate has an attraction for you--Miss Prettyman's here. No; I'm not censorious, and I wouldn't backbite an angel; but the way in which that young woman walks the sands at all hours--there! there!--I've done: I can't open my lips about that creature but you always storm. "You know that I always wanted to go to France; and you bring me down here only on purpose that I should see the French cliffs--just to tantalise me, and for nothing else. If I'd remained at home--and it was against my will I ever came here--I should never have thought of France; but--to have it staring in one's face all day, and not be allowed to go! it's worse than cruel, Mr. Caudle--it's brutal. Other people can take their wives to Paris; but you always keep me moped up at home. And what for? Why, that I may know nothing--yes; just on purpose to make me look little, and for nothing else. "HEAVEN BLESS THE WOMAN? "Ha! you've good reason to say that, Mr. Caudle; for I'm sure she's little blessed by you. She's been kept a prisoner all her life--has never gone anywhere--oh yes! that's your old excuse,--talking of the children. I want to go to France, and I should like to know what the children have to do with it? They're not babies NOW--are they? But you've always thrown the children in my face. If Miss Prettyman-- there now; do you hear what you've done--shouting in that manner? The other lodgers are knocking overhead: who do you think will have the face to look at 'em to-morrow morning? I sha'n't--breaking people's rest in that way! "Well, Caudle--I declare it's getting daylight, and what an obstinate man you are!--tell me, shall I go to France?" "I forget," says Caudle, "my precise answer; but I think I gave her a very wide permission to go somewhere, whereupon, though not without remonstrance as to the place--she went to sleep." LECTURE XXVI--MRS. CAUDLE'S FIRST NIGHT IN FRANCE--"SHAMEFUL INDIFFERENCE" OF CAUDLE AT THE BOULOGNE CUSTOM HOUSE "I suppose, Mr. Caudle, you call yourself a man? I'm sure such men should never have wives. If I could have thought it possible you'd have behaved as you have done--and I might, if I hadn't been a forgiving creature, for you've never been like anybody else--if I could only have thought it, you'd never have dragged me to foreign parts. Never! Well, I DID say to myself, if he goes to France, perhaps he may catch a little politeness--but no; you began as Caudle, and as Caudle you'll end. I'm to be neglected through life, now. Oh yes! I've quite given up all thoughts of anything but wretchedness--I've made up my mind to misery, now.