’ ‘The nuns?’ she said, gazing at him innocently. "When is he to suffer?" she demanded, fixing her large black eyes, which burnt with an insane gleam, upon him. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. They are not bad girls, but the average tourist has that misconception of them. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury. She noticed that this trunk was not littered with hotel labels. Through fire and water, through penury and pestilence, your hand will always be on his shoulder. But we waste time. I don’t think you understand.
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