Mrs. de Lancey was bustling about and I felt sure that in another
minute every available bellhop in the hotel would be at work. As
Warrington might have said in his slang, "Action is her middle
name."
Garrick rose and bade our two patients a hasty good-night,
tactfully forgetting to be offended by their lack of interest now
in anything except each other.
"I doubt if they get much chance to be alone--not with that woman
mothering them," he smiled to me, drawing me toward the door.
"Don't let's spoil this chance."
Mrs. de Lancey was busy in the next room, as we stopped to say
good-bye to her.
"I--I can't talk to you--now, Mr. Garrick," she cried, with a
sudden, unwonted show of emotion, taking both his hands in hers.
"You--you've saved my girl--there--there's nothing in this world
you could have done for me--greater."
"Mrs. de Lancey," replied Garrick, deftly changing the subject,
"there's just one thing. I'm afraid you are--have been, I mean,--a
little hard on Mr.
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