Rotherby staggered in, and she followed him closely, half expecting him to fall headlong. But he had mastered himself to a certain extent, and she heard him speak with some authority to the shock-headed landlord who came sleepily out of the bar-parlour to meet them.
“This lady is my sister. Can you give her a comfortable room for the night?”
“There’s the room you told me to prepare, sir,” said the man, with a loutish grin.
“That’ll do. Take her to it! See that she has everything she wants! Good night, Frances! You follow him! I shall see you in the morning.”
Rotherby spoke calmly, but it was through clenched teeth.
Frances stood hesitating. The landlord waited at the foot of a steep, ill-lighted staircase.
“That’s all,” said Rotherby. “I’m sorry I can’t do more to-night.”
He was obviously putting strong restraint upon himself. Frances waited a moment longer, then spoke.
“I can’t—possibly—leave you like this. You have been hurt. You must let me do what I can to help you.”
Again for an instant she saw his smile, and she saw the clenched teeth behind it.