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Love anywhere. Gwen—I saw Gwen the other day, and the paint’s thicker than ever. But we’ve got the brains to get over that, and tongues in our heads to talk to each other. Wood, despair will come over me; and, dear as this babe is to me, far dearer than my own wretched life, which I would lay down for him any minute, I have prayed to Heaven to remove him, rather than he should grow up to be a man, and be exposed to his father's temptations—rather than he should live as wickedly and die as disgracefully as his father. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. Don’t think it was anything better than fever—or a bit beautiful.
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