“No; but now you have it you are glad. Don't be unmerciful, my Gyp! It is like you to be merciful. That girl—it is all over—I swear—I promise.”
His hand touched her foot through the soft eiderdown. Gyp thought: 'Why does he come and whine to me like this? He has no dignity—none!' And she said:
“How can you promise? You have made the girl love you. I saw her face.”
He drew his hand back.
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
He was silent, staring at her. Presently he began again:
“She is a little fool. I do not care for the whole of her as much as I care for your one finger. What does it matter what one does in that way if one does not care? The soul, not the body, is faithful. A man satisfies appetite—it is nothing.”
Gyp said:
“Perhaps not; but it is something when it makes others miserable.”