Giles's. 3. Anna stood on the step and looked up and down the street for a hansom. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. I’ve paid for you and helped you, and I’m going to conquer you somehow—if I have to break you to do it. As to his mother, I've no pity for her.
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