“So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. We are going to have this chap writing books one of these days. And I am grateful to you. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Entering London, he bent his way towards the west-end; and having some knowledge of a secondhand tailor's shop in Rupert Street, proceeded thither, and looked out a handsome suit of mourning, with a sword, cloak, and hat, and demanded the price. He had finally put aside The Lilac Sunbonnet, gone into his study, lit the gas fire, and written the letter that had brought these unsatisfactory relations to a head. And still you interest yourself in my affairs. I'll forgive him if he does.
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