" The Wastrel laughed. In the retrospect she was amazed to think how things had gone to pieces, for at the outset she had been quite prepared to go home again upon terms. Mr. Heedless, however, of the consequences, he pursued his task. Generations had been born and died in between the times she had gotten laid. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. "The doctor said something about that. Ah! I shall never forget the figure Jack cut on that occasion. " "It is a diamond," said the lady, in an agony of distress,—"the child!" "A diamond! Here, take the kid," cried Blueskin, slipping the infant adroitly under her scarf. She was finally dead, going to Hell.
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