” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia. And Gosse had been still there, so Martha said, and not in prison. ” “It might become one,” he answered. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts.
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