" "That is to say, you wish you had let me die?" "That was the thought. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. It must have been impossible to see me through that much rain. It was a pity people had to eat food. She lost it in the Mint. What other reason could there be? It’s more complex, but it’s better. “Your mother was a Gypsy. He’s the sort of johnny who wouldn’t care about having a sister-in-law on the loose. I've seen many a clever cracksman, but never one like him. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing.
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