“Tell me his name,” he said, “and I promise that he shall never trouble you. You would rather live like the scum of the earth, in that little brown hovel you call a house, in bourgeois paradise. To have spoken lightly on such a subject a few hours ago would have seemed incredible. But I’m always trying to make things happen. It's kind of comforting to have you there. Afterward she wanted to get her letter to her father back in order to read it over again, and, if it tallied with her general impression of it, re-write it. He was accustomed to such surprises, and enjoyed them.
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