She put up her benign and ugly face, as though the privilege of a mother belonged to her by nature.
“I have felt it all so much.”
A flash of infinite yearning leaped up and passed in the man’s eyes.
“You must be tired,” he said, clinging to commonplaces. “Have they sent your luggage up?”
Miss Carmagee sank into a chair.
“I left it at the hotel. I’m not going to be a worry.”
“Worry!”
“Of course not, child.”
“Oh—but we must have you here. James—”
“My dear,” and the substantial nature of the old lady’s person seemed to become evident, “I insist on sleeping there to-night. Now, humor me, or I shall feel myself a nuisance.”