The Iron Bar 397 XVIII. Her fingers rested upon his. I do not ask if you are entirely English, but if you say truly when you say you are at my service. 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. Look! Is that some one coming out?” The front door of the flats stood open, and through it a woman, slim and veiled, passed on to the pavement and turned with swift footsteps in the opposite direction. Some part of the stiff vigour of the man seemed to have subsided. The young lady with whom I was dining last night was Miss Anna Pellissier. I speak frankly, because you also know that no possible extremity would induce me to accept help from any living person.
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