“I haven’t done anything particular,” said Eames.  “I’ve just been staying with my mother.”

“We’ve been very social here, haven’t we, Miss Amelia?” continued Mrs Lupex.  “Only now and then a cloud comes across the heavens, and the lights at the banquet are darkened.”  Then she put her handkerchief up to her eyes, sobbing deeply, and they all knew that she was again alluding to the sins of her husband.

As soon as dinner was over the ladies with young Mr Roper retired, and Eames and Cradell were left to take their wine over the dining-room fire,—­or their glass of gin and water, as it might be.  “Well, Caudle, old fellow,” said one.  “Well, Johnny, my boy,” said the other.  “What’s the news at the office?” said Eames.

“Muggeridge has been playing the very mischief.”  Muggeridge was the second clerk in Cradell’s room.  “We’re going to put him into Coventry and not speak to him except officially.  But to tell you the truth, my hands have been so full here at home, that I haven’t thought much about the office.  What am I to do about that woman?”

“Do about her?  How do about her?”

“Yes; what am I to do about her?  How am I to manage with her?  There’s Lupex off again in one of his fits of jealousy.”

“But it’s not your fault, I suppose?”

“Well; I can’t just say.  I am fond of her, and that’s the long and the short of it; deuced fond of her.”

“But, my dear Caudle, you know she’s that man’s wife.”

“Oh, yes, I know all about it.  I’m not going to defend myself.  It’s wrong, I know,—­pleasant, but wrong.  But what’s a fellow to do?  I suppose in strict morality I ought to leave the lodgings.  But, by George, I don’t see why a man’s to be turned out in that way.  And then I couldn’t make a clean score with old mother Roper.  But I say, old fellow, who gave you the gold chain?”

“Well; it was an old family friend at Guestwick; or rather, I should say, a man who said he knew my father.”

“And he gave you that because he knew your governor!  Is there a watch to it?”

“Yes, there’s a watch.  It wasn’t exactly that.  There was some trouble about a bull.  To tell the truth, it was Lord De Guest; the queerest fellow, Caudle, you ever met in your life; but such a trump.  I’ve got to go and dine with him at Christmas.”  And then the old story of the bull was told.

“I wish I could find a lord in a field with a bull,” said Cradell.  We may, however, be permitted to doubt whether Mr Cradell would have earned a watch even if he had had his wish.

“You see,” continued Cradell, reverting, to the subject on which he most delighted to talk, “I’m not responsible for that man’s ill-conduct.”

“Does anybody say you are?”

“No; nobody says so.  But people seem to think so.  When he is by I hardly speak to her.  She is thoughtless and giddy as women are, and takes my arm, and that kind of thing, you know.  It makes him mad with rage, but upon my honour I don’t think she means any harm.”