…or a ‘Tec?”I see I must explain myself,” she said, pulling out a chair from the table and sitting down.”Though I’m living in a big house in Park Lane, Mr. Bailey, I’m a poor woman. My husband has all the money, and not I.” “That doesn’t sound quite fair, ma’am,” I muttered, not knowing exactly what other remark to make.”Fair! Of course it isn’t fair!” she snapped. “Nothing is fair, is it? But come, I’m not here to expatiate on injustice. Have you ever been hard up, Mr. Bailey? You have. Good! Then you can sympathise with me. I am hard up— so hard up that I am anxious to sell my diamonds — a wedding present from my husband — and, being a wedding present and positively the only present he has ever given me, you can understand my difficulty. In short, I want to sell it, but dare…

…to a dream that occurred to him when he had sunk as low as any man could sink.”I had squandered two entire fortunes in drink, he said,” and, from living in a house of my own in Cadogan Gardens, was reduced to a garret in the South Lambeth Road. Not being brought up to any profession or trade, and having a serious physical defect, I could obtain no regular employment, but had to look out for odd jobs, such, for example, as carrying bags, opening carriage doors, and cleaning the brass work and windows of public, houses; and all the money I received I spent in drink. My wife had very rightly and wisely obtained a divorce from me. I was dead to all sense of decency and shame, and God alone knows in what act of outrageous devilry my wickedness might not have culminated, had it not been for…