The Wastrel wiped the blood from his forehead. ‘And you, my girl, if you’d been born at all, would have been just what you think you are. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. ’ Such simple faith touched Gerald. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. “Never. "Judging from what you tell me, I've no doubt he's the illegitimate offspring of some handsome, but lowborn profligate; in which case, he'll neither have name, nor wealth for his inheritance.
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