Her spirit awoke in dismay to an affection in ruins, to the immense undignified disaster that had come to them. "But be prudent, my angel. Was there anything at all in those locked rooms of her aunt’s mind? Were they fully furnished and only a little dusty and cobwebby and in need of an airing, or were they stark vacancy except, perhaps, for a cockroach or so or the gnawing of a rat? What was the mental equivalent of a rat’s gnawing? The image was going astray. I always fall on my feet, you know. Like a trollop in heat. She is more dear to me than anything else. I was supposed to do the same, but I didn’t. Only I wish—I wish to-day I was a thousand times, ten thousand times more beautiful. There was only one idea in his head now—to batter and bruise and crush this weakling, then cast him at the feet of his love-lorn wife. And if sometimes I grow heady—and it's in the blood— remind me of this day when you took me out of hell—a thief. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. You came to see me in the hospital. . ‘Ain’t enough as my bed is took, my sheets all bloodied, and my gin took for to waste on that fellow’s wound.
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