Tomorrow I will not see him. He is going to a smoker where there will be drinking and gambling and filthy women. A break in the monotony of a bank clerk's life!
A substitute for adventure!
More than likely he will be drunk but I doubt that he will bother the wenches. He will come back, no matter what he does, and love me none the less.
Go to it, John. There is no such thing as happiness anyway. A moment of gaiety, a night of romance or passion - then all is over but ugliness, suffering or boredom.
What cynic I've turned out to be!