He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. "Your faults were the faults of circumstances. “I had a faint idea once that things were as you say they are, but the affair of the ring—of the unexpected ring—puzzled me. ‘Oh, peste, you make me late!’ She glared up at Roding. ‘Yes, for there were too many females for the vicomte to make me a dowry. Their houses became a refuge of ill repute, the source of rumor and intrigue in the highest echelons of society.
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