"
CHAPTER XV
"A MAN SHOULD FIGHT HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD"
Vane left alone, strolled onward moodily, his eyes bent on the ground.
"In love, as I ought to be, said that scoundrel," he was muttering. "How
does he know I'm not? But what's the good? Faith, I believe I'm the
poorest devil in London and the unluckiest. Some people would say that
it is my own fault and that I've no need to be. Anyhow, my worthy father
would hold that view. I doubt if he'd kill the fatted calf if I went
back to him.... Go back! I'd rather go to the devil to whose tender
mercies he consigned me. Well, let it be so.... I've had some of the
joys of life--though maybe I've also had a good slice of its
disappointments.... It was worth being poor to have the pity of that
dear delightful girl.... God, what eyes! How sweet the tones of her
voice! I feel I love every hair of her pretty head. But to what purpose?
She's not for me. She never could be. Yet--well I shall see her again.
That's a joy to live for ... anyway. But it's too late to expect her
now. There's nothing left but to dream of her."
While thus soliloquising, kicking the pebbles as an accompaniment to his
thoughts, Vane neared the corner of Moor Fields leading to Cripples Gate
and was pounced upon by a couple of noisy fellows, friends of his, who,
newly sprung with wine, would have him go with them to the "Bear and
Staff" close to the Gate.
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