Yes! Yes, you are right, my dear, as you always seem to consider yourself to be. But you are right, I am angry with you. Why, you ask? Well, I shant tell you. Forgive me, but never will I give you the satisfaction. I will tell you this, however–Hold my glass for me, will you? Thank you–I will tell you that I regret every passionate word that I have ever uttered and I take back every foolish promises that I have ever made on that one particular drunken episode of which, may I add, you were ever the reason of (as you are the reason for my being one now). Mind you, my dear–No, stop sloshing it about. Give it here!–Mind! however, that they are not concocted lies; do not think that they are–for they may have been felt as truth, notwithstanding the state of my then intoxicated frame of mind. But how it makes me laugh now! Je t'attendrai toute ma vie, indeed. Ha! I oftentimes wonder what pathetic imp, with such perverted sense of humour, whispered those words into my ears and made me believe they were my own. I am afraid that I have allowed myself to be freely disposed to your ill-usage and selfish whims, of which can only be faulted upon my weakness (and which you have ever taken advantage of), for far too long. And, as sorry as I am, I must take your leave, my dear, once more. Curses! Pardon me, did I spill anything on you? No? No harm done then, now–You were saying my dear? Er–No, I will not hear it, I will not have your reasons–for I will believe them, without a doubt. Return to your silence and I shall return to mine, it is better that way. At least, we part on relatively better terms than the last time, do we not? Yes. Nod away, nod away. I only hope that, if fate ever had any kindness in its bosom, I shall never see you again. To you, my dear, my eternal love, as always–Cheers!