I sha'n't utter a word. One of the reasons why I decline to talk is this: that boy's punishment will be enough. He had studied alchemy and astronomy, was a capable painter, and even wrote music. She knew now that he never would. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. He stood a little anxious and fussy, bothered by the responsibility of her, entirely careless of what her life was or was likely to be, ignoring her thoughts and feelings, ignorant of every fact of importance in her life, explaining everything he could not understand in her as nonsense and perversity, concerned only with a terror of bothers and undesirable situations. . Were I not Jonathan Wild, I'd be Jack Sheppard. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant.
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