“No,” shouted Crosbie; “we will do no such thing.”  There was not another word said on the subject,—­nor on any other subject till they got home.  When they reached their house Alexandrina had a headache, and went up to her room immediately.  Crosbie threw himself into a chair before the remains of a fire in the dining-room, and resolved that he would cut the whole de Courcy family altogether.  His wife, as his wife, should obey him.  She should obey him—­or else leave him and go her way by herself, leaving him to go his way.  There was an income of twelve hundred a year.  Would it not be a fine thing for him if he could keep six hundred for himself and return to his old manner of life.  All his old comforts of course he would not have,—­nor the old esteem and regard of men.  But the luxury of a club dinner he might enjoy.  Unembarrassed evenings might be his,—­with liberty to him to pass them as he pleased.  He knew many men who were separated from their wives, and who seemed to be as happy as their neighbours.  And then he remembered how ugly Alexandrina had been this evening, wearing a great tinsel coronet full of false stones, with a cold in her head which had reddened her nose.  There had, too, fallen upon her in these her married days a certain fixed dreary dowdiness.  She certainly was very plain!  So he said to himself, and then he went to bed.  I myself am inclined to think that his punishment was sufficiently severe.

The next morning his wife still complained of headache, so that he breakfasted alone.  Since that positive refusal which he had given to her proposition for inviting her brother, there had not been much conversation between them.  “My head is splitting, and Sarah shall bring some tea and toast up to me, if you will not mind it.”

He did not mind it in the least, and ate his breakfast by himself, with more enjoyment than usually attended that meal.

It was clear to him that all the present satisfaction of his life must come to him from his office work.  There are men who find it difficult to live without some source of daily comfort, and he was such a man.  He could hardly endure his life unless there were some page in it on which he could look with gratified eyes.  He had always liked his work, and he now determined that he would like it better than ever.  But in order that he might do so it was necessary that he should have much of his own way.  According to the theory of his office, it was incumbent on him as Secretary simply to take the orders of the Commissioners, and see that they were executed; and to such work as this his predecessor had strictly confined himself.  But he had already done more than this, and had conceived the ambition of holding the Board almost under his thumb.  He flattered himself that he knew his own work and theirs better than they knew either, and that by a little management he might be their master.  It is not impossible that such might have been the case had there been no fracas at the Paddington station; but, as we all know, the dominant cock of the farmyard must be ever dominant.  When he shall once have had his wings so smeared with mud as to give him even the appearance of adversity, no other cock will ever respect him again.  Mr Optimist and Mr Butterwell knew very well that their secretary had been cudgelled, and they could not submit themselves to a secretary who had been so treated.