Only she hadn’t. “He fancied that he did,” she corrected him coolly. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. She spoke slowly. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel. "Here, Bess, give me the cord, and I'll tie him to this chest of drawers.
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