His voice when he spoke was, curiously enough, the voice of a gentleman, thick and a trifle rough though it sounded.
"My young friend," he said, "I agree with you--in effect--most heartily.
The place is filthy, the surroundings are repulsive, not to add degrading.

The society is--er--not congenial--I allude of course to our hosts--and the attentions of these unwashed, and I am afraid I must say unclothed, ladies of dusky complexion is to say the least of it embarrassing." "Dusky complexion!" Trent interrupted scornfully, "they're coal black!" Monty nodded his head with solemn emphasis.

"I will go so far as to admit that you are right," he acknowledged.

"They are as black as sin! But, my friend Trent, I want you to consider this: If the nature of our surroundings is offensive to you, think what it must be to me.

I may, I presume, between ourselves, allude to you as one of the people.
Refinement and luxury have never come in your way, far less have they become indispensable to you.