That is where hate and love are somewhat alike." The room was warm but Francis was conscious of shivering.

She raised her finger warningly.

It seemed typical of the woman, somehow, that the message could not be conveyed by any glance or gesture.
"He is coming," she whispered.
Oliver Hilditch reappeared, carrying cigars wrapped in gold foil which he had brought with him from Cuba, the tobacco of which was a revelation to his guest.

The two men smoked and sipped their coffee and brandy.

The woman sat with half-closed eyes.