But Graham saw nobody. To soothe her, however, he went outside and looked about. There were half a dozen cars, a group of chauffeurs, but no Rudolph. He went hack to her, to find her sitting, pale and tense, her hands clenched together.
“They'll pay you out some way,” she said. “I know them. They'll never believe the truth. That was Rudolph, all right. He'll think we're living together. He'd never believe anything else.”
“Do you think he followed you the other day?”
“I gave him the shake, in the crowd.”
“Then I don't see why you're worrying. We're just where we were before, aren't we?”
“You don't know them. I do. They'll be up to something.”
She was excited and anxious, and with the cocktail he ordered for her she grew reckless.
“I'm just hung around your neck like a stone,” she lamented. “You don't care a rap for me; I know it. You're just sorry for me.”
Her eyes filled again, and Graham rose, with an impatient movement.
“Let's get out of this,” he said roughly. “The whole place is staring at you.”