"Patience Kite has lured him to Enfield on a false scent after Blueskin. The vault, in which Sir Rowland found himself, resembled in some measure the cabin of a ship. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. These women could not be bad, else the hotel would not have permitted them to enter! Still, the scene presented a riddle: to give immunity to the black women who went about all but naked and to damn the white for exposing their shoulders! She had eaten but little; all her hunger had been in her eyes—and in her heart. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared.
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