“I shouldn’t have waited,” she said. ‘Yes, th-there it is,’ she uttered, stumbling a little over the words. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. Let me only wear your livery. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. “I have not quarrelled with her. A crutch, with a silver handle, stood by her side, proving the state of extreme debility to which she was reduced. What you would look upon as immorality is here merely an established custom, three thousand years older than Christianity, accepted with no more ado than that which would accompany you should you become a clerk in a shop. But I'll never part with your irons.
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