"A quiet place somewhere in the country, with Engleton and you and myself, and another one or two, and I should be able to pull through.

As it is, I feel inclined to chuck it all." The Princess looked at him curiously.

He was certainly more than ordinarily pale, and the hand which rested upon the side of his chair was twitching a little nervously.
"My dear Nigel," she said, "do go to the chiffonier there and help yourself to a drink.

I hate to see you white to the lips, and trembling as though death itself were at your elbow.

Borrow a little false courage, if you lack the real thing." The man obeyed her suggestion with scarcely a protest.
"I had hoped, Ena," he remarked a little peevishly, "to have found you more sympathetic." "You are so sorry for yourself," she answered, "that you seem scarcely to need my sympathy.