“TROUSERS!” she whispered. 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. There was a fourth story; but he never told either Ruth or McClintock about this. I don’t understand the workings of a gentleman’s mind. She turned on the lad with her, who was visibly relieved. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively.
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