He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. “Are you free tomorrow? Should I call?” He asked. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. She had even confided to him how lonely it was in the island. I can assure you, Anna, it will take me years to get decently established. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. Always. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think. I don’t idealize you.
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