They were confined for the evening at different tables, and she had nothing to hope, but that his eyes were turned so often towards her side of the room, as to make him play as unsuccesfully as herself.
Charles Dickens: A what? A big what?
The Doctor: Fan. Number one fan. That's me.
Charles Dickens: How exactly are you a 'fan'? In what way do you resemble a means of keeping oneself cool?