"O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. Thus, all her interest in life began to centre upon the patient, who was apparently quite as anchorless as she was. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. Tom swore he hadn't set eyes on him since the trial. And he would express various artistic sensibilities and aesthetic appreciations in carefully punctuated sentences and a large, clear voice. 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.
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