She was carefree. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. ‘This from a man who calls himself my friend. Whenever you grow impatient with her, remember the folly of her father. "You needn't gag me," he added, "I'll not cry out. You won’t settle and I’m going mad. She loved him. Even our coarseness.
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