You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. 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. ” Lucy said. ‘Go on up to the boy, my dear. Near as idiot as this capitaine of yours. “I wonder,” she began, presently, “why I love you—and love you so much?.
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