Mary hated them, while she was at times proud to see her husband in such fine company.
Such were the eagles that gathered round the carcass of George Hawker; and at last these eagles began to bring the hen-birds with them, who frightened our poor little dove with the amplitude and splendour of their feathers, and their harsh, strange notes.

George knew the character of those women well enough, but already he cared little enough about his wife, even before they had been a month married, going on the principle that the sooner she learned to take care of herself, the better for her; and after they had been married little more than a month, Mary thought she began to see a change in her husband's behaviour to her.
He grew sullen and morose, even to her.

Every day almost he would come to her with a scowl upon his face; and when she asked if he was angry with her, would say, "No, that he wasn't angry with her; but that things were going wrong--altogether wrong; and if they didn't mend, he couldn't see his way out of it at all." But one night he came home cheerful and hilarious, though rather the worse for liquor.

He showed her a roll of notes which he had won at roulette--over a hundred pounds--and added, "That shall be the game for me in future, Polly; all square and above-board there." "My dear George, I wish you'd give up gambling." "So I will, some of these fine days, my dear.

I only do it to pass the time.