But I'm not worrying about that. He had been on the point of leaving the restaurant. He smiled. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. This—’ waving an imperious hand in a sweeping arc about the library ‘—is my house. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. Go off and live together—until we can marry. . ’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London.
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