'Look in here,' he said.
Victoria looked. There were five men, half hidden in smoke; among them sat one woman clad in vivid colours, her face painted, her hands dirty and covered with rings. Her yellow hair made a vivid patch against the brown wall. A yard away, alone at a small table, sat another woman, covered too with cheap finery, with weary eyes and a smiling mouth, her figure abandoned on a sofa, lost to the scene, her look fixed on the side door through which men slink in.
'Remember,' said Farwell, 'give no quarter in the struggle, for you will get none.'
Victoria shuddered. But the fury was upon her.
'Don't be afraid,' she hissed, 'I'll spare nobody. They've already given me a taste of the whip. I know, I understand; those girls don't. I see the goal before me and therefore I will reach it.'
Farwell looked at her again, his eyes full of melancholy.
'Go then, Victoria,' he said, 'and work out your fate.'