You may be sure that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result of their confidence.
As they say at St.Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate.

"Mary," says master, "you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and loved at Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you--there's no smilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother and sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove them from this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life." "O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I.Why do you have any mistry from me?
Where do you spend your days?
Why did you leave me, even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do so every day ?" "Because," says he, "I makes my livelihood by it.

I leave you, and don't tell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know." It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions on my missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it ended for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel.

Wery difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing which had proceeded their nupshuls.
Master went out, slamming the door in a fury; as well he might.

Says he, "If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;" and so he went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beesly intawsicated.