But it was all vague, meaningless, incomprehensible to Ranny. He only remembered afterward, long afterward, that on that night when he had spoken of Mercier she had "looked queer."
And the queerest thing was that she did not know Mercier then, or hardly; hardly to speak to.
He answered her question.
"He told me he'd taken the rooms, of course."
"And so he did take them!"
"Yes, he took them all right. But I had to tell him that he couldn't have them."
"But you can't act like that. You can't turn him out if he wants to come."
"Oh, can't I? He knows that. Jolly well he knows it. He won't want to come. Anyhow, he isn't coming."
"You stopped him?"
"Should think I did. Rather," said Ranny, cheerfully.