She occupied a small sofa, a little apart, a ruddy-complexioned gentleman some years her senior beside her, and glanced about with an air of considerable unease. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. The phone did not ring. ’ Gerald remained infuriatingly calm. Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. ’ He stopped suddenly, dismay creeping into his face. Or become a thorough-going typist and stenographer and secretarial expert. My dear—I can call you that here, anyhow—I know that. A tinge of admiration rose in his breast. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair. You’re tired, of course. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére.
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