furry gentleman took a dozen steps. I thought of all the things he and
my cousins had ever done to disgust me with him during his "courtship."
I asked myself whether his arrival here was a coincidence, or whether
he'd been tracking me all along, step by step, while I'd been chuckling
to myself over my lucky escape. I thought of what he would do when he
recognized me, and what Lady Turnour would say, and Sir Samuel. And
although I couldn't see exactly what good he could do in such a
situation, I wished vaguely that my brother the chauffeur were on the
spot. Then suddenly, with a wild rush of joy, I remembered that I was
facing the danger through my little talc window.

Any properly trained heroine of melodrama would have ejaculated "Saved!"
but I haven't a tragedy nose, and I gave only a stifled squeak, more
like the swan-song of a dying frog than anything more romantic.

Nobody heard it, luckily; and Monsieur Charretier, who had just come
into the twilight of the hall from the brighter light out of doors,
bustled past the retiring figure of the lady's-maid without a glance. I
had even to take a step out of his way, not to be brushed by his fur
shoulder, so wide he was in his expensive motoring coat; and trembling
from the shock, I awkwardly collided with Lady Turnour. She, in her
turn, avoiding my onslaught as if I'd been a beggar in rags, stepped on
Monsieur Charretier's toe.

He exclaimed in French, she apologized in English.

He bowed a great deal, assuring madame that she had not inconvenienced
him. She accused her maid, whose stupidity was in fault; and because
each one looked to the other rich and prosperous they were extremely
polite to one another. Even then, though her ladyship snapped at me,