. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. The fresh air, which blew in his face, greatly revived him. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. ‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. Yet her embarrassment was only a passing thing. She still had her letter of credit. The will to live had returned. Every moment or two he bent over his patient. “You may call anytime. I tell you this child would have been strangled. “Your father is in the study and wishes to speak to you. ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy.
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