Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. “Won’t you tell me why you have come to England?” she said. Probably some woman on the loose; they were as thick as flies over here—dizzy blondes. Either it was an unfortunate recovery of a trail, or he had followed her from Mayfair. It seemed to him that a sort of mist had risen up between them. On a pallet in one corner lay a pale emaciated female. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom. “Oh my God, what if she’s dead?” More giggling. You cannot possibly leave me here alone with Gerald.
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