A. T. Quiller-Couch

“ In the moonlit garden of the Casino at Monte Carlo Miles Chandon smoked a cigar pensively, leaning against the low wall that overlooks the pigeon-shooters' enclosure, the railway station and the foreshore. He was alone, as always. That a man who, since the great folly of his life, had obstinately cultivated solitude should make holiday in Monte Carlo, of all places, is paradoxical enough; but in truth the crowd around the tables, the diners at the hotel, the pigeon-shooters, the whole cosmopolitan gathering of idle rich and predatory poor, were a spectacle to him and no more. ”

“ Sir Miles looked, recognised Miss Sally, and walked briskly towards her. She caught sight of him and nodded.
"Thought you would come. Excuse me a moment."
She lifted her voice and addressed the cabby again:
"Oh, you can talk. They taught you that at the Board School, no doubt. But drive you cannot; and talk you would not, if you knew the respect due to a mouth—your own or your horse's."
With this parting shot she turned to Sir Miles again, and held out her hand.
"Tell your man he needn't trouble about a seat for you. I've engaged a compartment where we can talk." ”

“ He listened with set face, interposing here and there to ask a question, or to weigh one detail of her narrative against another.
"If the children should be lost—which God forbid!" she wound up, "—and if I never did another good day's work in my life, I'll remember that they started me to clear that infernal Orphanage. ”