That was philosophy, and that was also "good business." It was foolish to apply romantic theories to the positive actuality.
"Well, you _are_ a gentleman," exclaimed the judge, with facetiousness.
"That's why I always liked you, I suppose.

You're straight and you're honest and there's no nonsense about you." If he had only known! She thought of the romantic girl of the 'nineties, of her buoyant optimism, her childlike ignorance, her violent certainties, and of her triumphant, "I can manage my life!" If he had only known how she had "muddled things" at the beginning, would he have said that she had "no nonsense about her ?" In the subway, a little later, clinging to a dirty strap, with a blackened mechanic in the seat before her, a box of tools at her feet, and a garlic-scented charwoman jolting against her shoulder, she was overcome by a sudden cloud of despondency.

Her courage, her hopefulness, her philosophy, seemed to melt like frost in her thoughts, leaving behind only a sodden sense of loss, of emptiness, of defeat.

"I've had a mean life," she said to herself resentfully.

"I've had a mean life.