To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. 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. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. It was no use.
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