” “Don’t imperil my reputation before I am established,” she answered, smiling. But heavens, I must pack!” She sprang to her feet and disappeared in the room beyond, from which she emerged a few minutes later with flushed cheeks and dishevelled hair. Unexpectedly he found himself speeding toward the father. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. Long before religion and Society heard of Doubt, girls were all for midnight coaches and Gretna Green. I am Lucilla Froxfield, you must know.
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