‘You see now how dangerous it is to play this lone hand. It seems to me exactly what is wanted. She wondered if he was already tired of her, if he would rudely push her away as one would a prostitute. Don’t go back into Victorian respectability and pretend you don’t know and you can’t think and all the rest of it. She hesitated. A hazy face appeared through the fog of sleep, pale and thin and looming. Having no more patience, I drew you aside to give you a compliment on your radiant beauty. ’ Jack gasped. Rubbishy novels and pernicious rascals. But no matter how you phrase it, the end is the same.
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