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“I might return the compliment, Courtlaw,” he answered, “by asking why the devil you come lurching on to the pavement like a drunken man. One learns to sit up. Gerald swore. In fine, to marry Ruth (if she would consent) as a punishment for what he had done! To whip his soul so long as he lived, but to let his body go free! To provide for her, to work and dream for her, to be tender and thoughtful and loyal, to shelter and guard her, to become accountable to God for her future. I’ve got no feminine class feeling. ‘Now I see why you’re marrying this woman, Hilary. ‘All right, Trodger.
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