... sat in his private tent at the rear of the marquee drinking brandy. Upon a camp table covered by a violet cloth was the portrait in the ivory frame at which he gazed as he smoked. The blue eyes and the feminine lips softened as sentimentally as any sex-starved Puritan virgin; perhaps not in spite of, but because of, a mediaeval code as senseless as the native system of tabu, for natural emotions suppressed find an outlet in ... — Witch-Doctors • Charles Beadle
...
