It might be upset. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed. That’s— that’s my private life. She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage. She winked at him as he shut the door. Before she knew what had happened, Gosse turned suddenly, and vaulted one of the pews into the gap behind. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. It is useless to trace out her miserable career; though I can easily do so if you require it.
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