She felt a lump in her throat when the great house rose at her William,
and the more so since she knew that her praise was more to him than all
the clamour of the theatre. Devine had begun by fortune-hunting, and
ended by loving his wife, though she did not bring him a penny.

Those were merry days in New York. Champagne was plentiful as water, and
William Devine often came home in a very lively condition, but his wife
did not mind, for she thought that a man must have his glass. Women of
the lower and middle classes have a great deal to do with supplying
customers to the public-house. Some of them drive their men there by
nagging, but more of them lead a man on to drink by sheer indulgence.
They encourage him to enjoy himself without thinking of the day when
enjoyment will be impossible, and when they and their children will
reach the lowermost rung of the ladder of shame and penury. The Wanderer
went merrily on his way, but his vice was steadily gaining on him, and
his nerve was going. He took a long engagement for an Australian tour,
and carried on very loosely all the while; but Letty saw no change.
Women never do until the very worst has happened. When Devine came to
England he was eagerly looked after, and he should have fared well. For
a time he had engagements and money in plenty, but a subtle change was
taking place in him, and managers and audiences saw it, though they
could not say precisely where the deterioration had taken place.

There is a certain sporting set of theatrical men who are very dangerous
companions. Their daily work is exciting, and when they want change
they often gamble, because that is the only form of excitement which is
keener than the stir and tumult of the theatre. When Devine won three
hundred pounds on one Derby he was a lost man. He pitted his wits
against the bookmakers'; he took to loafing about with those flash,
cunning fellows who appear to spend their mornings in bars and their