” “Thanks to me,” he repeated, puzzled. ‘I am not in the least in a rage. Earles strode into the waiting-room. The same look she had often seen in the eyes of the drunken beachcombers her father had brought home, and it had not filled her with horror. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. She went further: she doubted that he was fully conscious of where he was. He seemed to know a great deal about life. “In Paris. I always told you some accident would happen.
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