She didn’t choose her man. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. I thought it better not to send him away till I'd mentioned the circumstance to you. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable. She was curious, and at the same time clearly resolved she must not hear it. ‘Because you are a bête, and a pig, and imbecile.
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