The whole thing was so confused, so unnatural.

What with the dark, malignant Hughs and that haunting vision of Bianca, the matter seemed almost Italian.

That a man of Hughs' class might be affected by the passion of love had somehow never come into her head.

She thought of the back streets she had looked out on from her bedroom window.

Could anything like passion spring up in those dismal alleys?
The people who lived there, poor downtrodden things, had enough to do to keep themselves alive.