“I don’t know how I know， sir， but when I am leaving thehouse in the morning I look at her from the door， and she looksat me， and then I—I know.”
“A green Chartreuse， William！”
I tried to forget William’s vulgar story in billiards， but hehad spoiled my game. My opponent， to whom I can givetwenty， ran out when I was sixty-seven， and I put aside mycue pettishly. That in itself was bad form， but what would theyhave thought had they known that a waiter’s impertinencecaused it！ I grew angrier with William as the night wore on，and next day I punished him by giving my orders throughanother waiter.
As I had my window seat， I could not but see that the girlwas late again. Somehow I dawdled over my coffee. I had anevening paper before me， but there was so little in it that myeyes found more of interest in the street. It did not matter to mewhether William’s wife died， but when that girl had promisedto come， why did she not come？ These lower classes only givetheir word to break it. The coffee was undrinkable.
At last I saw her. William was at another window， pretendingto do something with the curtains. I stood up， pressing closer tothe window. The coffee had been so bad that I felt shaky. Shenodded three times and smiled.
“She is a little better，” William whispered to me， almostgayly.
“Whom are you speaking of？” I asked， coldly， and immediatelyretired to the billiard-room， where I played a capital game. Thecoffee was much better there than in the dining-room.
Several days passed， and I took care to show William that Ihad forgotten his maunderings. I chanced to see the little girl（though I never looked for her） every evening and she alwaysnodded three times， save once， when she shook her head， andthen William’s face grew white as a napkin. I remember thisincident because that night I could not get into a pocket. Sobadly did I play that the thought of it kept me awake in bed，and that， again， made me wonder how William’s wife was.
Next day I went to the club early （which was not my custom）to see the new books. Being in the club at any rate， I lookedinto the dining-room to ask William if I had left my glovesthere， and the sight of him reminded me of his wife， so I askedfor her. He shook his head mournfully， and I went off in a rage.
So accustomed am I to the club， that when I dine elsewhereI feel uncomfortable next morning， as if I had missed a dinner.
William knew this； yet here he was， hounding me out of theclub！ That evening I dined （as the saying is） at a restaurant，where no sauce was served with the asparagus. Furthermore，as if that were not triumph enough for William， his dolefulface came between me and every dish， and I seemed to see hiswife dying to annoy me.
I dined next day at the club， for self-preservation， taking，however， a table in the middle of the room， and engaging awaiter who had once nearly poisoned me by not interferingwhen I put two lumps of sugar into my coffee instead ofone， which is my allowance. But no William came to me toacknowledge his humiliation， and by and by I became awarethat he was not in the room. Suddenly the thought struck methat his wife must be dead， and I—. It was the worst-cookedand the worst-served dinner I ever had in the club.
I tried the smoking-room. Usually the talk there isentertaining； but on that occasion it was so frivolous that I didnot remain five minutes. In the card-room a member told me，excitedly， that a policeman had spoken rudely to him； and mystrange comment was：
“After all， it is a small matter.”
In the library， where I had not been for years， I found twomembers asleep， and， to my surprise， William on a ladderdusting books.
“You have not heard， sir？” he said in answer to my raisedeyebrows. Descending the ladder he whispered， tragically：
“It was last evening， sir. I—I lost my head and I—swore at amember.”
I stepped back from William， and glanced apprehensively atthe two members. They still slept.
“I hardly knew，” William went on， “what I was doing all dayyesterday， for I had left my wife so weakly that—”
I stamped my foot.
“I beg your pardon for speaking of her，” he had the graceto say， “but I couldn’t help slipping to the window oftenyesterday to look for Jenny， and when she did come and Isaw she was crying， it—it a sort of confused me， and I didn’tknow right， sir， what I was doing. I hit against a member， Mr.
Myddleton Finch， and he—he jumped and swore at me. Well，sir， I had just touched him after all， and I was so miserable， it akind of stung me to be treated like—like that， and me a man aswell as him， and I lost my senses， and—and I swore back.”
William’s shamed head sank on his chest， but I even let passhis insolence in likening himself to a member of the club， soafraid was I of the sleepers waking and detecting me in talkwith a waiter.
“For the love of God，” William cried， with coarse emotion，“don’t let them dismiss me！”
“Speak lower！” I said. “Who sent you here？”
“I was turned out of the dining-room at once， and told toattend to the library until they had decided what to do with me.
Oh， sir， I’ll lose my place！”
He was blubbering， as if a change of waiters was a matter ofimportance.
“This is very bad， William，” I said. “I fear I can do nothingfor you.”
“Have mercy on a distracted man！” he entreated. “I’ll go onmy knees to Mr. Myddleton Finch.”
How could I but despise a fellow who would be thus abjectfor a pound a week？
“I dare not tell her，” he continued， “that I have lost my place.
She would just fall back and die.”
“I forbade your speaking of your wife，” I said， sharply，“unless you can speak pleasantly of her.”
“But she may be worse now， sir， and I cannot even see Jennyfrom here. The library windows look to the back.”
“If she dies，” I said， “it will be a warning to you to marry astronger woman next time.”
Now， every one knows that there is little real affection amongthe lower orders. As soon as they have lost one mate they takeanother. Yet William， forgetting our relative positions， drewhimself up and raised his fist， and if I had not stepped back Iswear he would have struck me.
