“Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. Of course, at home there would have been questions. But—if you are a friend of Mr. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. But we smirk a little, I’m afraid, habitually when we talk to you.
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