"Marcelle, you will drive me crazy. Don't you understand that I have never intended to marry anybody—really?"
A knock at the door opening into the sitting-room came to Hermione's relief.
"Yes?" she said.
"If you can spare Marcelle, I would recommend that she should go to your flat for any clothes you may need," said Curtis's voice.
Hermione threw open the door.
"A little while ago you told me that it was impossible to think of returning there," she said.
"For you, yes, but not for your maid. Who is to hinder? That man, Rafferty, looked a decent sort of fellow."
"I can manage Rafferty all right," put in Marcelle.
"Of course you can," smiled Curtis. "Just pack a trunk or a couple of bags with Lady Hermione's belongings—you know what to bring—and get Rafferty to call a taxi without attracting too much notice. If you think you are being followed, put your pursuers off the scent. But my own view is that 1000 59th Street is the last place anyone will think of watching to-night."
"Shall I go at once, your ladyship?" said Marcelle, and Hermione said "Yes," with a meekness that was admirable in a wife.