“And what are you doing there?”
“Waiting for Miss Vizard.”
“Come in, then.”
“She told me not.”
“Then I tell you to. The idea! Miss Vizard!”
“Yes!”
“Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting—like Grief—on the steps. I will soon be back.”
She flew to the landlady. “Mrs. Grip, I want a candle.”
“Well, the shops are open,” said the woman, rudely.
“Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles directly, candlesticks and all.”