"Ah! I see. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. “Don’t be childish, Annabel. ” “That settles it. Figg! In a few minutes, all will be over. “I knew you wouldn’t mind. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. He would get her to come to tea with him, usually in a pleasant tea-room over a fruit-shop in Tottenham Court Road, and he would discuss his own point of view and hint at a thousand devotions were she but to command him.
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