I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. The streets were full of colour. It made me wake up, and there I lay thinking of you, spending your nights up here all alone, and no one to look after you. ” And then he flashed his whole conception of the relations of men and women upon her in one astonishing question. Had he but known it, his outburst had done him no harm in the major’s eyes. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. .
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