He encouraged her to join him in his debauchery. Seeing the footman about to follow her in, Gerald clamped a hand onto his shoulder. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. I want to be your knight, your servant, your protector, your—I dare scarcely write the word—your husband. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application.
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