W. Somerset Maugham: The Moon and Sixpence

13. Chapter XIII (continued)

"Monsieur n'est pas poli," she said.

She walked out of the inn. I was slightly vexed.

"There wasn't any need to insult her that I can see," I said. "After all, it was rather a compliment she was paying you."

"That sort of thing makes me sick," he said roughly.

I looked at him curiously. There was a real distaste in his face, and yet it was the face of a coarse and sensual man. I suppose the girl had been attracted by a certain brutality in it.

I could have got all the women I wanted in London. I didn't come here for that."