Their small talk continued. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. “I have not the least idea who he is. “In two days,” she reflected, “Mrs. ‘Quick, Gérard. She passed down the stairs and into the street. What's the idea of the black border?" "My father recently died, sir. I gather you wish to go up in some fantastic get-up, wrapped about in your opera cloak, and that after the festivities you propose to stay with these friends of yours, and without any older people in your party, at an hotel. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off.
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