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. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. For all that, it is folly. “There,” he said, “you don’t treat me fairly, Miss Stanley. He glanced up at the coachman. He is delightful, is he not?’ ‘That will do, Lucilla. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. She could no longer wait.
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