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167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. In consequence of the encouragement thus offered to dishonesty, and the security afforded to crime, this quarter of the Borough of Southwark was accounted (at the period of our narrative) the grand receptacle of the superfluous villainy of the metropolis. Men ought not to idealize any woman. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately. As such, you may command the sympathies of the gentry.
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