"Perhaps we can drop you at your hotel," said she. "Won't you get in?"
He got in, facing them a little ruefully with his damaged countenance, and subtly aware that this accession of friendliness was not a gush of airy impulse.
"You know Miss Beecher then?" said Miss Falconer with brisk directness.
"Slightly," he said aloud. To himself he added, "So far."
"Ah—in America?"
"No, in Cairo."
Miss Falconer looked disappointed. "But perhaps you know her family?"
"No," said Billy. He added humorously, "But I'll wager I could guess them all right."
"Can you Americans do that for one another? That is more than we can venture to do for you," said the lady, and Billy was aware of irony.
"We know so little about your life, you see," the girl softened it for him, with a direct and friendly smile, and then gazed watchfully at her chaperon. She was a nice girl, Billy decided emphatically.