Too close, he reasoned, for safety. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. In you—if you can love me—there is salvation. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Perhaps you'll call that charity: I call it defeating the ends of justice. ‘Do you think I could endure to hear you prattling your abominable French in my ear day by day? Enough to drive me straight into my grave.
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