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The stairs were outside but they had been covered with a thin plastic roof. She regarded him coldly, as though wondering whether he had anything further to say. ‘Do not speak of him. "Can't you see? I can't hurt her, if … if she cares! I can't tell her I'm a madman as well as a thief!… What a fool! What a fool!" A thief. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned.
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