"Children," said the aunt, first to awake, "be young fools as long as God will permit you. “It was the night you left Paris. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. Ah Cum said that it was customary to give the chair boys small money for rice. It was an oldfashioned peasant blouse, white, square necked, and trimmed with lace. “I imagine,” Sir John said, “that your sister would acquaint him with it. "You have killed him," cried Winifred in alarm. 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. Bodies! Bodies! Horrible things! We are souls.
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