Louisa rang for her maid, and asked for hat and cloak. The maid—somewhat horrified that her mistress should think of going out alone at so late an hour—was too well drilled to offer advice or make comment. She brought a warm wrap and a closely fitting, simple hat, and respectfully wished to know when she should expect her mistress home.
"In about an hour's time," said Louisa. "Come down into the hall with me, and tell the porter to call me a cab."
Then she went down, accompanied by her maid. A cab was called, and she directed the driver to 56 Chester Terrace.
The address was that of Lady Ryder's town house. The maid—feeling more satisfied—went up stairs again.
CHAPTER XXXVI
PEOPLE DON'T DO THAT SORT OF THING
Lady Ryder was out of town. She was staying at a country house in the Midlands, chaperoning her nieces—Louisa's twin-sisters—but Sir Thomas Ryder was at home.
It was for him that Louisa had asked when the butler opened the door in answer to her ring.
"Sir Thomas is in the library, miss," said the man. "Will you come into the drawing room? and I'll tell Sir Thomas you are here, miss."
"No!" she said, "don't announce me. I'll go to the library."