She still hesitated.
“I am very grateful, Garry, and I admit that I am becoming almost afraid to remain entirely alone, but——”
“Send for your effects,” he insisted cheerfully. “Aristocrates will move my stuff into Westmore’s spare room. Then you shall take my quarters and be comfortable and well guarded with Aristocrates and Selinda on one side of you, and Jim and myself just across the studio.” He cast a sombre glance at Westmore: “I suppose those rats will ultimately trail her to this place.”
Westmore turned to Thessalie:
“Where are your effects?” he asked.
She smiled forlornly:
“I gave up my lodgings this morning, packed everything, and came here, rather scared.” A little flush came over her face and she lifted her dark eyes and met Westmore’s intent gaze. “You are very kind,” she said. “My trunks are at the Grand Central Station—if 208 you desire to make up my disconcerted mind for me. Do you really want me to come here and stay a few days?”
Westmore suppressed himself no longer:
“I won’t let you go!” he said. “I’m worried sick about you!” And to Barres, who sat slightly amazed at his friend’s warmth:
“Do you suppose any of those dirty dogs have traced the trunks?”