"Good-bye, William!" I said, in a fury.

But before I could get away Mrs. Hicking signed to William to leave
the room, and then she kissed my hand. She said something to me. It was
about my wife. Somehow I--What business had William to tell her about my
wife?


They are all back in Drury Lane now, and William tells me that his wife
sings at her work just as she did eight years ago. I have no interest in
this, and try to check his talk of it; but such people have no sense of
propriety, and he even speaks of the girl Jenny, who sent me lately
a gaudy pair of worsted gloves worked by her own hand. The meanest
advantage they took of my weakness, however, was in calling their baby
after me. I have an uncomfortable suspicion, too, that William has given
the other waiters his version of the affair; but I feel safe so long as
it does not reach the committee.




THE BLACK POODLE, By F. Anstey


I have set myself the task of relating in the course of this story,
without suppressing or altering a single detail, the most painful and
humiliating episode of my life.

I do this, not because it will give me the least pleasure, but simply