“Little pilgrim,” he said, “you’re going to have a good scrub, a good sleep in a good bed, and a jolly good breakfast when you wake up. What do you think of that!”
“I don’t know what to think.... I have found much kindness among strangers.”
He laughed and lighted a cigarette. The avenue was nearly deserted. At Forty-second Street the taxi swung west to Seventh Avenue, south, passing Twenty-third Street, west again through a maze of crooked old-time streets. It stopped, finally, before a two-story and basement house of red brick—one of many similar houses that lined both sides of a dark and very silent block.
Annan got out, paid his fare, took the little satchel, and handed Eris out.
“Is it a boarding house?” she asked.
“One lodges well here,” he replied carelessly.
They ascended the stoop; Annan used his latch-key, let her in, switched on the light.
“Come up,” he said briefly.
On the landing at the top of the stairs he switched on another light, opened a door, lighted a third bracket.
“Come in!”