“Oh, I met him at Miss Clarke’s,” said Jacqueline.
At that moment Mr. Terrill was not of sufficient importance to have a name. He was less than nothing.
They went up to their suite again, and Barty put into his bag the few things he had unpacked so short a time before. Jacqueline helped him. She brushed his hair with his military brushes, she straightened his tie. She kissed him and sent him off with a smile.
“Oh, Barty! Oh, Barty!” she cried, after he had gone.
V
“Stopping here?” cried a delighted voice.
Odd, how people keep on existing, completely unaware how superfluous they are! Jacqueline turned from her contemplation of the moonlit sea to the vastly inferior spectacle of Mr. Terrill, and answered him as civilly as she could just then.
“Yes,” she said, “for a rest.”
“Not a very quiet place for a rest,” remarked Terrill.
“I don’t like quiet places,” Jacqueline replied impatiently.