Mr. Sabin's manner changed as though by magic. He was at once
alert and vigorous.
"My dear Passmore," he said, "come to the table. We shall want
those Continental time-tables and the London A.B.C. You will have
to take a journey to-night."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
The two women were alone in the morning-room of Lady Carey's house
in Pont Street. Lucille was walking restlessly up and down twisting
her handkerchief between her fingers. Lady Carey was watching her,
more composed, to all outward appearance, but with closely compressed
lips, and boding gleam in her eyes.
"I think," Lady Carey said, "that you had better see him."
Lucille turned almost fiercely upon her.
"And why?"
"Well, for one thing he will not understand your refusal. He may
be suspicious."
"What does it matter? I have finished with him. I have done all
that I pledged myself to. What more can be expected of me? I do
not wish to see him again."
Lady Carey laughed.
"At least," she said, "I think that the poor man has a right to
receive his cong? from you. You cannot break with him without a
word of explanation. Perhaps--you may not find it so easy as it
seems."
Lucille swept around.
"What do you mean?"
Lady Carey shrugged her shoulders.
"You are in a curious mood, my dear Lucille. What I mean is obvious
enough.
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