“I cannot thank you, Sir John,” she said. “I’m thirsty. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. ” He relapsed into a stony silence. It reminded her viscerally of her subhuman status, stripped away of the pretenses of art, intellect, and nicety. She admitted her pleasure to Ramage. "You've given me more than the amount, Sir Rowland," he said, after he had twice counted them, "or I've missed my reckoning. " "And so Sir Rowland murdered his friend," remarked Wood. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully.
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