It looked very patient, she thought, and a little self-satisfied. She had something of the feeling a Hindoo must experience who has been into surroundings or touched something that offends his caste. In fact, Kimble was drowsily awake when she entered the little bedchamber, the state of which left a good deal to be desired, even without the added debris arising from tending a wounded man. She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. ‘You are jealous!’ ‘Yes,’ he agreed simply. I knew where I would go next: Florence. Then abruptly Mr. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I wasn’t.
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