"That's as it should be," he said.
She made a little harassed movement. "I must manage somehow. Julian's going to get my ticket. He's telephoning about all that now. But Greta wouldn't like me to ask Julian for a loan for her."
Napier glanced at the clock. There was still, thank Heaven, the passport difficulty. He scribbled a line on a card. All that was really essential was to make Julian abandon his efforts to remove the obstacles, and Nan would be spared what couldn't fail to be a horrible shock. His aching tenderness for the girl asked why she should ever know the truth unless, indeed, Greta von Schwarzenberg should succeed in carrying off the goose that laid the golden eggs. By all the gods, he must prevent that!
Eagerly she had watched him writing, and now she gave her own interpretation to the card Napier despatched upstairs. "It is kind of you to come and see if you can help us. But you oughtn't to have kept me! Send for a taxi, will you?" she called to the passing commissionaire. "Julian's promised not to leave poor Greta alone till I get back."
Taxis were beginning to grow scarce in London. Napier had followed her to the door; they could see the page-boy pursuing a cab. "Nan—"
She began to speak in a nervous, forestalling haste. "You've never understood about Greta. I believe it's people of strong natures that suffer the most. Last night she couldn't sleep!"
"How do you know?"
"I watched the crack of light under her door. Twice I knocked and tried to make her let me come in. She wouldn't. 'Go to sleep,' she said. As if I could! Once she unbolted the door and came on tiptoe into my room. What do you think for? To get a needle out of my case. Greta! sewing! And what do you think she found to sew? She wouldn't tell me, but I saw this morning. She had been trying to put herself to sleep by changing the buttons on that very-buttony ulster of hers. Took off all the round, bumpy ones and put on a flat kind instead. I can't see it's any improvement. But, then, I always hate buttons that don't button anything, except when they're on cute little page-boys."
The cab had rushed up to the door with Buttons on the footboard. Another of the button brotherhood stood by Napier's side.
"Will you please, sir, come up to seventy-two?"