When he had grown accustomed to
rattling loose silver in his pocket, the next thing, as a matter of
course, was that he accustomed himself to pay far too frequent
visits to City bars. On certain days in the week he invariably came
home with a very red face and a titubating walk; when Bessie
received him angrily, he defended himself on the great plea of
business necessities. As a town traveller there was no possibility,
he alleged, of declining invitations to refresh himself; just as
incumbent upon him was it to extend casual hospitality to those with
whom he had business.
'Business! Fiddle!' cried Bessie. 'All you City fellows are the
same. You encourage each other in drink, drink, drinking whenever
you have a chance, and then you say it's all a matter of business. I
won't have you coming home in that state, so there! I won't have a
husband as drinks! Why, you can't stand straight.'
'Can't stand straight!' echoed Sam, with vast scorn. 'Look here!'
And he shouldered the poker, with the result that one of the globes
on the chandelier came in shivers about his head. This was too much.
Bessie fumed, and for a couple of hours the quarrel was
unappeasable.
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