‘You think I am like that Valade? No, a thousand times. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. Sheppard, clasping him with a hand that burnt with fever, "I have been ill—dreadfully ill—I believe delirious—I thought I should have died last night—I won't tell you what agony you have caused me—I won't reproach you. I myself have had the pleasure of dining with her. Let this be a caution to you in future—with whom, and about what you deal. In the discussion there was the oddest mixture of things that were personal and petty with an idealist devotion that was fine beyond dispute. You have set out to do something which is neither God's way nor man's. Borrow. That is so awful. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him.
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