“No, Tracy,” interposed Fortescue, “you have never loved a woman in your life. ’Tis that that might save you. I do not allude to the lustful passion you indulge in, but real love. For God’s sake Belmanoir, live clean!”

“Pray do not distress yourself, Frank. I am not worth it.”

“I choose to think that you are. I cannot but feel that if you had been loved as a boy⁠—Your mother⁠—”

“Did you ever see my mother?” inquired his Grace lazily.

“No⁠—but⁠—”

“Have you ever seen my sister?”

“Er⁠—yes⁠—”

“In a rage?”

“Really, I⁠—”