Mr. Lammle bestows a by no means loving look upon the partner of his joys and sorrows, and he mutters something; but checks himself.

“Question for question. It is my turn again, Mrs. Lammle. What made you suppose me a man of property?”

“You made me suppose you so. Perhaps you will deny that you always presented yourself to me in that character?”

“But you asked somebody, too. Come, Mrs. Lammle, admission for admission. You asked somebody?”

“I asked Veneering.”

“And Veneering knew as much of me as he knew of you, or as anybody knows of him.”

After more silent walking, the bride stops short, to say in a passionate manner: