"Here we are, ma," he said.
She wrestled with her voice.
"Do you mind—will you ask her, please? I've been crying, and I look such an idiot."
"Right-o, ma. But don't bother about that. Mrs. King has had her share o' crying in her time. She won't think nothing of that."
She realized that it was necessary to waken Louis as she heard the door open and a conversation between two people. A little figure of a woman came out to the cab and spoke to her.
"It's all right, my dear," she said quietly. "I've got a top room. I'll be glad to let you have it."
"It's very kind of you," said Marcella. "My husband is—rather—asleep. How on earth am I going to get him upstairs?"
"I'll get some of my young fellows to carry him up for you," said Mrs. King. "Don't you fret about it now, dear. Men often have a drop too much, and it's better to take no notice provided they don't get too noisy or too ready with their fists."
Marcella smiled faintly and stood stiff as a sentry while Mrs. King fetched out half a dozen of her lodgers who were playing cards in the kitchen. They carried Louis upstairs. He was so drugged that he did not waken.