She was there, paid to do certain things, and she had to do them.

The way Prescott spoiled her and indulged her, as though she were a little dressed-up cat in a London drawing-room, instead of a great hefty woman accustomed to throw steers and balance a sack of potatoes on her head, was simply sickening.

And it became more sickening still as Prescott's infatuation clouded more and more the poor fellow's brain.

Jaffery talked (not before Liosha, but to Adrian and myself, that night, after the ladies had gone to bed) as if the girl had woven a Vivien spell around his poor friend.

We smiled, knowing it was Jaffery's way.