He set his hands on her shoulders, she suffering it passively, insensibly.
"You care for him, Sylvia ?" he said, between inquiry and wonder.
"Well, well! We are both fools together, child.

The man is a dastard, a blackguard, a Judas, to be repaid with betrayal for betrayal.

Forget him, girl.

Believe me, he isn't worth a thought." "Terence!" She looked in her turn into that distorted face.

"Are you mad ?" she asked him.
"Very nearly," he answered, with a laugh that was horrible to hear.
She drew back and away from him, bewildered and horrified.