“But you needn’t tell me, boy. I keep my eyes and my ears about me. I know where you’re always going! It’s those Malakites have got hold of you. It’s that Malakite girl that’s the trouble. You’re being unfaithful to that wife of yours. I knew it would end like this. I knew it was all a woeful mistake. These marriages out of one’s class never do succeed and never will. The truth is, boy, that you don’t know yourself, or what you really need, any more than that stick of yours does! You’re making yourself ill with remorse, when neither of those little Blacksod hussies cares a fig about your feelings⁠ ⁠… or about your faithfulness either. Why, they’ve been brought up to be as indiscriminate as flies! You don’t know our Dorsetshire lower classes, boy. They haven’t the same feelings, they’re not human in the same way as we are. And what’s more, Wolf, let me tell you this”⁠—her voice deepened to a discordant harshness, and she seized the Golden Treasury and beat it against the ground⁠—“you’re not really in love with either of them! If you were, you’d choose between them. You’re one of those men like Jason Otter, like Mr.