“Eustace Lovegood!” she said hoarsely. “The good God must have sent you.”
The big man started; took off his hat:
“Bless my soul, Miss Whiffels, you here! Mr. Doome has asked me to use his rooms—for a month.... But I did not know there was anyone—I mean, he—must have forgotten.”
“No,” she said—“I have no business here—none. Eustace, I am a desperate woman. I don’t know—where—to go.”
“My dear lady!”
“Why should I show a modesty that I once had—a long while ago—quite some months now——”
“My dear good——”
“Listen, Eustace. I must state the indecent thing to somebody. This man has debauched me—body and soul——”
“Good God! Bartholomew Doome?”
“No, no. This Ffolliott person——”