Well , well , we were all young once , Thyra -- all young once , even crooked little August Vorst . Eh , now ? '' `` What do you mean ? '' said Thyra . She had sat down in a chair before him , with her hands folded in her lap . Her face , always pale , had not changed ; but her lips were curiously white . August Vorst saw this and it pleased him . Also , her eyes were worth looking at , if you liked to hurt people -- and that was the only pleasure August took in life . He would drink this delightful cup of revenge for her long years of disdainful kindness -- ah , he would drink it slowly to prolong its sweetness . Sip by sip -- he rubbed his long , thin , white hands together -- sip by sip , tasting each mouthful . `` Eh , now ? You know well enough , Thyra . '' `` I know nothing of what you would be at , August Vorst . You speak of my son and Damaris -- was that the name ? -- Damaris Garland as if they were something to each other . I ask you what you mean by it ? '' `` Tut , tut , Thyra , nothing very terrible . There 's no need to look like that about it . Young men will be young men to the end of time , and there 's no harm in Chester 's liking to look at a lass , eh , now ? Or in talking to her either ?
The little baggage , with the red lips XXXXX her !
Garland Vorst at by if in of that to years