“My dear,” she said, when she could get her breath, “you must come home at once. Stanley admired and detested him in almost equal measure. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. ‘Don’t try to turn it off,’ ordered Miss Froxfield. Beauty has bloomed and faded. The day was sunny and pleasant, devoid of chill winds. 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.
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