Now there is none. What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. That is what my mother used to call me. All right really. In vain Wood protested his innocence. “A ballot-box, you know,” he said, “is very largely just a box. “Everything very nice, I am sure,” Miss Stanley murmured to Capes as he steered her to a place upon the little sofa before the fire. “There, there, now.
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