‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Dear me, what a difference it has made! No one would ever think that we were sisters. You'll live to hate chicken; and the man in you will rise up and demand strong drink. I’ve made no one happy. All other things were without weight or consequence before the fact that this poor young man would have to depend upon her for his life. Kneebone, a woollen-draper in Wych Street, with whose pockets, it appears, Jack, when a lad, made a little too free. pglaf. “May you have as much good fortune as you deserve, but not enough to make you forget us.
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