And thus I went on, starving myself to death by inches, until one day, Edward, having won a cause, dined at Westminster with the witnesses; and then if a dog in the street didn’t keep howling and crying all the evening, like anything--just opposite our house. When my husband returned, he let out, quite by accident, whilst I was asking him about what they had given him for dinner, that there were thirteen at table! This completely quieted my fears, for I now plainly saw that all the dreadful omens pointed at my husband and not at myself, while the simple fact of the dog howling all the time the thirteen were at dinner, completely convinced me that I was destined before long to _wear weeds_. The next day--as I now saw Fate had singled out its victim, and that my dear Edward, and not myself, was doomed to be the melancholy martyr of Miss Norah’s poisonous designs--I thought I might as well make a good dinner for the first time these three weeks--though, with my usual prudence, I determined to get some favourite dish for my poor husband, so that he might enjoy it all to himself, and so that I might not be called upon to partake of the same food as he did. But, that day, thank goodness, Edward delighted me by bringing home one of his country agents, a Mr. Fl--m--ng, to dinner with him; so I at once saw that, as I carved, I should have an opportunity of trying the effect of the different dishes upon the visitor before allowing my dear husband to peril his precious life by partaking of them. For as I had to choose whether Edward, who is a tolerably good husband, or Fl--m--ng, who is far from a profitable agent, should fall a victim to Norah’s spite, of course I could not help preferring the lesser evil, and sacrificing my guest in order to save my spouse. So I took good care, all through dinner, that directly my Edward expressed a wish to taste such and such a dish, to prevail upon Mr. Fl--m--ng to try some of the same before I allowed my husband to touch it, in order that I might observe what effect it had upon him, poor man, before helping my dear Edward. But with all my care, nothing would satisfy my self-willed husband, of course, but some of the very veal cutlets that I’d had cooked for myself, and which I’d made a point of not asking Mr. Fl--m--ng to touch, in order that I might have them all to myself; so that there was I obliged, after all, to make my dinner off potatoes and cheese.