There's nobody left but the nice, respectable, goody-goody boys who wouldn't leave their mothers or miss going to confession if you went down on your knees to them.' 'Well, then, the Irish troops ought to shoot their officers, and walk over to the Boer camp,' said Finola savagely.
Hyacinth half smiled at what seemed to him a monstrous jest.

Then, when he perceived that she was actually in earnest, the smile froze into a kind of grin.

His hands trembled with the violence of his indignation.
'It would be devilish treachery,' he blurted out.

'The name of Irishman will never be disgraced by such an act.' Augusta Goold flung her cigarette into the grate, and rose from her chair.

She stood over Hyacinth, her hands clenched and her bosom heaving rapidly.