He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. “Go down and rescue the rags of my reputation,” she said, smiling. And as for not knowing me, you abominable little liar, you’re perfectly aware that we met at Remenham House. She tightened her bandage and sat back, biting her lip. She could not risk going in the door, lest she run into Larry or Cathy drinking a nocturnal glass of milk or Mike raiding the refrigerator for snacks. Everybody talking of you.
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