The tension was palpable. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. ‘Jacques?’ she called. Let me say it to you. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. I’m off to England. You are somebody’s secretary, are you not?” It was plain that the subject was distasteful to her, but Ennison, although famous in a small way for his social tact, did not at once discard it. His gaze remained steady on the old dame’s face, as he thought about it.
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