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. The point is, Spurlock was coming along: queerly, by his own imagination. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. I will come later to see you, Melusine. "How long will he be laid up?" "Three or four weeks, if he doesn't peg out during the night.
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