“I ought to look up Gwen,” she said. She had fallen asleep on the wooden bed, uncaring of lice or bedbugs. “It—it—must come,” she faltered. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. In some cases they were ground almost to powder; in others, driven deeply into the earth, as if discharged from a piece of ordnance. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. ” He looked at her pleadingly. ’ ‘Very much so,’ Gerald said, matching her tone, and at once forced the discussion back to his own point of interest by adding, ‘I was particularly struck by those poor Valades.
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