Quotation from: The Arrow of Gold

Written by: Joseph Conrad

"So she rushes down here. Overdone, weary, rest for her nerves.
Nonsense. I assure you she has no more nerves than I have."

I don't know how he meant it, but at that moment, slim and elegant,
he seemed a mere bundle of nerves himself, with the flitting
expressions on his thin, well-bred face, with the restlessness of
his meagre brown hands amongst the objects on the table. With some
pipe ash amongst a little spilt wine his forefinger traced a
capital R. Then he looked into an empty glass profoundly. I have
a notion that I sat there staring and listening like a yokel at a
play. Mills' pipe was lying quite a foot away in front of him,
empty, cold. Perhaps he had no more tobacco. Mr. Blunt assumed
his dandified air--nervously.