"You have not a thought to spare for anything else," he continued in the same strain: "I may go or come, be present or absent, cheerful or sad; it's all the same to you. As long as you have that ugly little creature to doat upon, you care not a farthing what becomes of me."
"It is false, Arthur; when you enter the room, it always doubles my happiness; when you are near me, the sense of your presence delights me, though I don't look at you; and when I think about our child, I please myself with the idea that you share my thoughts and feelings, though I don't speak them."
"How the devil, can I waste my thoughts and feelings on a little worthless idiot like that?"
"It is your own son Arthur,—or, if that consideration has no weight with you, it is mine; and you ought to respect my feelings."
"Well, don't be cross; it was only a slip of the tongue," pleaded he. "The little fellow is
