“I can’t explain that to you at the moment,” Christian answered diffidently.
“What am I to do? Go with you? Right away?”
“If you are willing, I shall call for you at two, and we can drive to the station.”
“And you won’t be ashamed of me?”
“No, I shall not be ashamed.”
“You know how I look? Suppose people point their fingers at the whore travelling with such an elegant gentleman?”
“It does not matter what people do.”
“All right. I’ll wait for you.” She crossed her arms over her breast and stared at the ceiling and did not stir. Christian arose and nodded and went out. Nor did Karen move when he was gone. A deep furrow appeared on her forehead, the fresh scars gleamed like burns upon her earthy skin, a dull and primitive amazement turned her eyes to stone.
XXIII
When Christian crossed the reception room of the hotel he saw Crammon sitting sadly in a chair. Christian stopped and smiled and held out his hand. “Did you sleep well, Bernard?” he asked.