I suppose this is what she learns in her infernal London colleges. No more did she offer her forehead for the good-night kiss. He was mad. “Well?” she said, sitting down again. “We’ll clean up everything tidy,” said Capes. If he had eaten food, this wouldn't have happened. 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. “Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger.
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