I understand. He rose slowly and extended it. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed
charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase,
surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd
miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope
and Dumas, cheek by jowl. —'I see how it'll be,'
observed Alsatia, 'everybody'll pay his debts, and only think of such a state of
things as that. “This wonderful affection of
yours for my sister, does it date from your first meeting with her in Paris?”
He hesitated. “Endless. He thought for a moment, and went on: “Love is something that has to be
taken care of. . Her lover surely did not
223
understand the implications of what he had asked for and
his lust blinded him to the realities of existence even now. She was
rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced.
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