“Have you had a baby?”

“What, didn’t you know that?  It is seven months old; ’tis a boy, that’s one good job.  And he hasn’t paid me one penny piece.  I have been up to Barber and Barber’s, but they advised me to do nothing.  They said that he owed them money, and that they couldn’t get what he owed them—­a poor look-out for me.  They said that if I cared to summons him for the support of the child, that the magistrate would grant me an order at once.”

“And why don’t you?” said Frank; “you don’t like the expose in the newspapers.”

“That’s it.”

“Do you care for him still?”

“I don’t know whether I do, or don’t.  I shall never love another man, I know that.  I saw him in front about a month ago.  He was in the stalls, and he fixed his eyes upon me; I didn’t take the least notice, he was so cross.  He came behind after the first act.  He said, ‘How old you are looking!’ I said, ‘What do you mean?’ I was very nicely made up too, and he said, ‘Under the eyes.’  I said, ’What do you mean?’ and he said, ‘You are all wrinkles.’  I said, ’What do you mean?’ and he went down-stairs....  Swine!”

“He isn’t good-looking,” said Frank, reflectively, “a broken nose, a chin thrust forward, and a mop of brown curls twisted over his forehead.  Give me a pencil, and I’ll do his caricature.”

“Every one says the same thing.  The girls in the theatre all say, ‘What in the world do you see in him?’ I tell them that if he chose—­if he were to make up to them a bit, they’d go after him just the same as I did.  There’s a little girl in the chorus, and she trots about after him; she can’t help it.  There are times when I don’t care for him.  What riles me is to see other women messing him about.”

“I suppose it is some sort of magnetism, electro-biology, and he can’t help exercising it any more than you women can resist it.  Tell me, how did he leave you?”

“Without a word or a penny.  One night he didn’t come home, and I sat up for him, and I don’t know how many nights after.  I used to doze off and awake up with a start, thinking I heard his footstep on the landing.  I went down to Waterloo Bridge to drown myself.  I don’t know why I didn’t; I almost wish I had, although I have got on pretty well since, and get a pretty tidy weekly screw.”

“What do you get?”

“Three ten.  Mine’s a singing part.  Waiter, some cheese and celery.”

“What a blackguard he is!  I’ll never speak to him again; he shall edit my paper no more.  To-night I’ll give him the dirty kick-out.”

Mike remained the topic of conversation until Lottie said—­

“Good Lord, I must be ’getting’—­it is past seven o’clock.”

Frank paid her modest bill, and still discussing Mike, they walked to the stage-door.  Quick with desire to possess Lizzie wholly beyond recall, and obfuscated with notions concerning the necessity of placing women in surroundings in harmony with their natural goodness, Frank walked by his mistress’s side.  At the end of a long silence, she said—­