I ask you--I ask you honestly, do you know what our Landmann bill
was last month?"

"I've told you I didn't know, Bert," Nancy might answer patiently.

"Well, you ought to know!"

"I know this," Nancy sometimes said gently, "that you are not
yourself to-day; you've been eating too much, drinking too much,
and going too hard. You can't do it, Bert, you aren't made that
way. ..."

Then it was Bert's turn to be icily silent, under the pleasant,
even tones of his wife's voice. Sometimes he desperately planned
to break the rule of hospitality, to frighten Nancy by letting
guests and neighbours see that something was wrong with the
Bradleys. But he never had courage enough, it always seemed
simpler and wiser to keep the surface smooth. Nancy, on her part,
saw that there was nothing to gain by a break of any sort. Bert
was not the type to be intimidated by sulks and silences, and more
definite steps might quickly carry the situation out of her hands.
The present with Bert was difficult, but a future that did not
include him was simply unthinkable. No, a woman who had four young
children to consider had no redress; she could only endure. Nancy
liked the martyr role, and frequently had cause, or imagined she
had cause, for assuming it.