“Yes,” I said, “while she clings to his legs, as fools drown together.”
“Would you not have had her try to save him?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“Ah! You are vindictive.”
“Don’t you hear me laughing?”
“Yes; like the devil.”
“Is it? I should be mad indeed if I could applaud her. Do you bear in mind what she has done to me? She is of the sort who make cruelty their pander—a frowsy, garterless Jezebel. O, how I hate prudery! For five years I longed to open the windows on it, and let the air in, and whatever wholesome little devils beside. I declare I loathe myself to be of her sex. Touch me, Gogo. Am I the same, or different? O, to be sure! I wish her joy of her bargain—and him.”
“She will pay. But for Noel, weak child of genius—leave me the sorrow of my broken hopes, Diana.”
“And nothing else? Why did he not meet me?”
“He had not the courage at the last moment.”