Yes, she felt it as a disgrace, poor girl!  When she saw the name ‘Snowdon’ in the newspaper, in such a shameful and horrible connection, her impulse was to flee, to hide herself.  It was dreadful to go to her work and hear the girls talking of this attempted murder.  The new misery came upon her just as she was regaining something of her natural spirits, after long sorrow and depression which had affected her health.  But circumstances, now as ever, seemed to plot that at a critical moment of her own experience she should be called out of herself and constrained to become the consoler of others.

For some months the domestic peace of Mr. and Mrs. Byass had been gravely disturbed.  Unlike the household at Crouch End, it was to prosperity that Sam and his wife owed their troubles.  Year after year Sam’s position had improved; he was now in receipt of a salary which made—­or ought to have made—­things at home very comfortable.  Though his children were now four in number, he could supply their wants.  He could buy Bessie a new gown without very grave consideration, and could regard his own shiny top-hat, when he donned it in the place of one that was really respectable enough, without twinges of conscience.

But Sam was not remarkable for wisdom; indeed, had he been anything more than a foolish calculating-machine, he would scarcely have thriven as he did in the City.  When he had grown accustomed to rattling loose silver in his pocket, the next thing, as a matter of course, was that he accustomed himself to pay far too frequent visits to City bars.  On certain days in the week he invariably came home with a very red face and a titubating walk; when Bessie received him angrily, he defended himself on the great plea of business necessities.  As a town traveller there was no possibility, he alleged, of declining invitations to refresh himself; just as incumbent upon him was it to extend casual hospitality to those with whom he had business.

‘Business!  Fiddle!’ cried Bessie.  ’All you City fellows are the same.  You encourage each other in drink, drink, drinking whenever you have a chance, and then you say it’s all a matter of business.  I won’t have you coming home in that state, so there!  I won’t have a husband as drinks!  Why, you can’t stand straight.’

‘Can’t stand straight!’ echoed Sam, with vast scorn.  ‘Look here!’

And he shouldered the poker, with the result that one of the globes on the chandelier came in shivers about his head.  This was too much.  Bessie fumed, and for a couple of hours the quarrel was unappeasable.

Worse was to come.  Sam occasionally stayed out very late at night, and on his return alleged a ‘business appointment.’  Bessie at length refused to accept these excuses; she couldn’t and wouldn’t believe them.

‘Then don’t!’ shouted Sam.  ’And understand that I shall come home just when I like.  If you make a bother I won’t come home at all, so there you have it!’