“To the best of my belief,” she said, with quiet dignity, “I have never seen either of you before in my life. “Nigel, Nigel,” she cried. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. One doesn’t go about with these passions allayed simply because they have made wreckage and a scandal. You refuse me your confidence. And you have to thank her presence, hot-headed boy, that I do not chastise your insolence as it deserves. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain.
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