[ Her eyes shut, her nose wrinkles - oh, what is she doing anyway? Pining over some lout, some wretched fool. ]

Damned idiot through himself off the houses of Parliament. Fool, wretched fool. He had to be fished near dead out of the river. [ She snatches up the bottle. He's clear in her mind, clear a glass. An older man, he had been full, of himself when she was being sharp with him, but of his own honor, too. But her memory of him was his form weak, laying in bed, unconscious and half a breath from death. Devoted to it and she -

- she laughs. Because what else is there to do? ] He is my gallant knight.