"Oh, blast it, no! I couldn't stand that."
"And finally, should you wish your wife to be ready to sink into the earth when she hears you mentioned; and to loathe the very sound of your voice, and shudder at your approach?"
"She never will; she likes me all the same, whatever I do."
"Impossible, Mr. Hattersley! you mistake her quiet submission for affection."
"Fire and fury—"
"Now don't burst into a tempest at that—I don't mean to say she does not love you—she does, I know, a great deal better than you deserve—but I am quite sure, that if you behave better, she will love you more, and if you behave worse, she will love you less and less till all is lost in fear, aversion, and bitterness of soul, if not in secret hatred and contempt. But, dropping the subject of affection, should you wish to be the tyrant of her life— to take away all the sunshine from her existence, and make her thoroughly miserable?"
