On a small shelf near the foot of the bed stood a couple of empty phials, a cracked ewer and basin, a brown jug without a handle, a small tin coffee-pot without a spout, a saucer of rouge, a fragment of looking-glass, and a flask, labelled "Rosa Solis. I have a different game to play; and it'll be your own fault, if you don't come off the winner. . She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused. I have no right to love you. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood.
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