“Oh! very well,” said Thompson. “Why didn’t you say so before? I’ll show you round.”
Mendel took Thompson round to his hotel and up to Logan’s room, where, entering without knocking, they found Logan kneeling on the floor with Oliver in a swoon in his arms. He had opened her blouse at the neck and unlaced her corsage.
Mendel thought Oliver looked as though she was going to die, and his first idea was to run for the doctor.
“She’ll come round,” said Logan. “It’s my fault. I was brutal to her. . . .” He nodded to Thompson. “How do you do?” and he covered up Oliver’s large bosom.
She came to in a few moments, opened her eyes slowly, rolled them round, and came back to Logan, on whom she fixed a gaze of devouring love. She put up her arms and drew his head down and kissed his lips.
Mendel drew Thompson out into the corridor.
“She was shamming,” he said.
“I don’t think so,” replied Thompson. “What has happened? Does he knock her about?”
“Not that I know of. They’ve not been together very long. They can’t settle down.”
“She’s a fine woman,” said Thompson.