. . To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. The very carts and vans and cabs that Wellington Street poured out incessantly upon the bridge seemed ripe and good in her eyes. ’ Then she came closer and put her hand on his chest so that it rested on the braid that decorated his scarlet coat. He just wants to get laid. She hesitated, and for a moment thought of omitting her second verse altogether. ‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. But your role would have been to go about saying, ‘I beg your pardon’ in a reproving tone to things you understood quite well in your heart and saw no harm in.
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