She went to her room and changed the loose morning gown in which she had lunched for a dark walking dress. ‘I never met a rat what wandered about the place with a lantern, I didn’t,’ grumbled the old lodgekeeper aggrievedly. Suppose our proper place is a shrine. “You cannot! Oh, you cannot. “The Holy Ghost! The Pope! My mother!” She squealed. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. He used to live in a boarding-house in Russell Square. ‘So now you may safely cease your roundaboutation, and tell me what took you to Remenham House. It would hurt no one. This means of communication instantly brought them to the lobby. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. “How are you?” He asked, realizing she was unnerved by the very sound of his voice. “And by what right do you do anything of the sort?” “No right at all,” he admitted. . She laughed till the tears stood in her eyes.
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