III. DIVORCE. A. D., 1886. The Club Window.

"Yes, I saw her pass with 'that scoundrel'— For heaven's sake, old man, keep cool! No end of the fellows are watching— Go easy, don't act like a fool! 'Parading your shame'!—I don't see it. It's hers now, alone; for at last You drove her to give you good reason, Divorced her, and so it's all passed. For you, I mean; she has to bear it— Poor child—the reproach and the shame; I'm your friend—but come, hang it, old fellow, I swear you were somewhat to blame. 'What the deuce do I mean?' Well, I'll tell you, Though it's none of my business. Here! Just light a cigar, and keep quiet— You started wrong, Charley Leclear. You weren't in love when you married— 'Nor she!'—well, I know, but she tried To keep it dark. You wouldn't let her, But laughed at her for it. Her pride Wouldn't stand that, you know. Did you ever See a spirited girl in your life, Who would patiently pose to be pitied As a 'patient Griselda'-like wife When her husband neglects her so plainly As you did?—although, on the whole, When the wife is the culprit, I've noticed It's rather the favorite rôle. So she flirted a little—in public— She'd chances enough and to spare, Ah, then if you'd only turned jealous— But you didn't notice nor care. Then her sickness came—even we fellows All thought you behaved like a scrub, Leaving her for the nurse to take care of, While you spent your time at the club. She never forgave you. How could she? If I'd been in her place myself, By Jove, I'd have left you. She didn't, But told all her woes to Jack Guelph. When a girl's lost all love for her husband, And is cursed with a masculine friend To confide in, and he is a blackguard, She isn't far off from the end. Oh, I'm through—of course nobody blamed you In the end, when you got your divorce— You were right enough there—she'd levanted With Guelph, and you'd no other course. What I mean is, if you'd acted squarely, The row would have never occurred, And for you to be doing the tragic, Strikes me as a little absurd. As it stands, you've the best of the bargain, And she's got a good deal the worst, Leave it there, and—just touch the bell, will you? You're nearest, I'm dying of thirst."