The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind. She never questioned the motives of the characters; she had neither the ability nor the conceit for that; but she could and often did correct his lapses in colour. "Whose child can this be?" "How the devil should I know!" replied Jonathan gruffly. The chance it is the same for both. Life is a patchwork of impressions, of vanishing personalities. "Look at it!" he felt like screaming. "Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly.
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