He envied her a little. Pity he's ta'en to bad ways so airly. Not only that, but he carried himself erect— the slight slouch which had bent his shoulders had altogether disappeared. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. Her father had smiles ready for her, he seemed to be truly happy with her for the first time since her infancy. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano. “Then we must try and make London endurable for you,” he remarked cheerfully. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. So, let's think no more about it.
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