’ Total bullshit, if you ask me. As he hesitated, unable to make up his mind what to do for the best, a heavy rumbling on the cobbles penetrated his absorption. What was the old tabby at? Unaccountably embarrassed, he cleared his throat. Conscience was always digging sudden pits for his feet and common sense ridiculing his fears. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. If anyone noticed, he did not report the event. But, alas! she was beautiful—and beauty is a crime not to be forgiven by a jealous woman. It’s odd how little I know of him, and of how he feels and what he feels. ’ He saw that Mrs Sindlesham, for all her vaunted freedom of speech, was honestly shocked by this revelation.
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