“Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. Daily contact with actual human beings all the more inclined her toward the imaginative. Like a petulant child he snapped. She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. He leaned forward to embrace her. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another character which bit far more deeply into her mind. Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. Do you think I would marry you? Rather would I marry the pig in the convent. Even in his fevered hours, so the girl had said, his tongue had not betrayed him.
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