“But your sister?” he asked. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. " He opened his eyes again. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. " "All right; and thank you. She obeyed, extending her arm.
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