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Having paid the cabman, she crossed the pavement and entered the hall-way. Cairn stepped forward so that she almost ran into his arms.

“Mr. Cairn!” she cried. “Why! have you been to see Antony?”

“I have,” he replied, and paused, at a loss for words.

It 南海盐步桑拿网 had suddenly occurred to him that Antony Ferrara and Myra Duquesne had known one another from childhood; that the girl probably regarded Ferrara in the light of a brother.

“There are so many things I want to talk to him about,” she said. “He seems to know everything, and I am afraid I know very little.”

Cairn noted with dismay the shadows under her eyes—the grey eyes that he would have wished to see ever full of light and laughter. She was pale, too, or seemed unusually so in her black dress; but the tragic death of her guardian, Sir Michael Ferrara, had been a dreadful blow to this convent-bred girl who had no other kin in the world. A longing swept into Cairn’s heart and set it ablaze; a longing to take all her sorrows, all her cares,
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upon his own broad shoulders, to take her and hold her, shielded from whatever of 佛山桑拿技师论坛 trouble or menace the future might bring.

“Have you seen his rooms here?” he asked, trying to speak casually; but his soul was up in arms against the bare idea of this girl’s entering that perfumed place where abominable and vile things were, and none of them so vile as the man she trusted, whom she counted a brother.

“Not yet,” she answered, with a sort of childish glee momentarily lighting her eyes. “Are they very splendid?”

“Very,” he answered her, grimly.

“Can’t you come in with me for awhile? Only just a little while, then you can come home to lunch—you and Antony.” Her eyes sparkled now. “Oh, do say yes!”

Knowing what he did know of the man upstairs, he longed to accompany her; yet, contradictorily, knowing what he did he could not face him again, could not submit himself to the test of being civil to Antony Ferrara 佛山夜生活什么价格 in the presence of Myra Duquesne.

“Please don’t tempt me,” he begged, and forced a smile. “I shall find myself enrolled amongst the seekers of soup-tickets if I completely ignore the claims of my employer upon my time!”

“Oh, what a shame!” she cried.

Their eyes met, and something—something unspoken but cogent—passed between them; so that for the first time a pretty colour tinted the girl’s cheeks. She suddenly grew embarrassed.

“Good-bye, then,” she said, holding out her hand. “Will you lunch with us to-morrow?”

“Thanks awfully,” replied Cairn. “Rather—if it’s humanly possible. I’ll ring you up.”

He released her hand, and stood watching her as she entered the lift. When it ascended, he turned and went out to swell the human tide of Piccadilly. He wondered what his father would think of the girl’s visiting Ferrara. 佛山桑拿介绍 Would he approve?佛山桑拿体验报告 Decidedly the situation was a delicate one; the wrong kind of interference—the tactless kind—might merely render it worse. It would
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be awfully difficult, if not impossible, to explain to Myra. If an open rupture were to be avoided (and he had profound faith in his father’s acumen), then Myra must remain in ignorance. But was she to be allowed to continue these visits?

Should he have permitted her to enter Ferrara’s rooms?

He reflected that he had no right to question her movements. But, at least, he might have accompanied her.

“Oh, heavens!” he muttered—”what a horrible tangle. It will drive me mad!”

There could be no peace for him until he knew her to be safely home again, and his work suffered accordingly; until, at about midday, he rang up Myra Duquesne, on the pretence of accepting her invitation to lunch on 佛山桑拿服务微信 the morrow, and heard, with inexpressible relief, her voice replying to him.

In the afternoon he was suddenly called upon to do a big “

royal” matinée, and this necessitated a run to his chambers in order to change from Harris tweed into vicuna and cashmere. The usual stream of lawyers’ clerks and others poured under the archway leading to the court; but in the far corner shaded by the tall plane tree, where the ascending steps and worn iron railing, the small panes of glass in the solicitor’s window on the ground floor and the general air of Dickens-like aloofness prevailed, one entered a sort of backwater. In the narrow hall-way, quiet reigned—a quiet profound as though motor ‘buses were not.

Cairn ran up the stairs to the second landing, and began to fumble for his key. Although he knew it to be impossible, he was aware of 佛山桑拿js a queer impression that someone was waiting for him, inside his chambers. The sufficiently palpable fact—that such a thing was impossible—did not really strike him until he had opened the door and entered. Up to that time, in a sort of subconscious way, he had anticipated finding a visitor there.

“What an ass I am!” he muttered; then, “Phew! there’s a disgusting smell!”
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He threw open all the windows, and entering his bedroom, also opening both the windows there. The current of air thus established began to disperse the odour—a fusty one as of something decaying—and by the time that he had changed, it was scarcely perceptible. He had little time to waste in speculation, but when, as he ran out to the door, glancing at his watch, the nauseous odour suddenly rose again to his nostrils, he stopped with his hand on the 佛山桑拿全套2014体验 latch.

“What the deuce is it!” he said loudly.

Quite mechanically he turned and looked back. As one might have anticipated, there was nothing visible to account for the odour.

The emotion of fear is a strange and complex one. In this breath of decay rising to his nostril, Cairn found something fearsome. He opened the door, stepped out on to the landing, and closed the door behind him.

At an hour close upon midnight, Dr. Bruce Cairn, who was about to retire, received a wholly unexpected visit from his son. Robert Cairn followed his father into the library and sat down in the big, red leathern easy-chair. The doctor tilted the lamp shade, directing the light upon Robert’s face. It proved to be slightly pale, and in the clear eyes was an odd expression—almost a hunted look.

“What’s the trouble, Rob? Have a whisky and soda.”佛山桑拿qq群2013

Robert Cairn helped himself quietly.

“Now take a cigar and tell me what has frightened you.”

“Frightened me!” He started, and paused in the act of reaching for a match. “Yes—you’re right, sir. I am frightened!”

“Not at the moment. You have been.”

“Right again.” He lighted his cigar. “I want to begin by saying that—well, how can I put it? When I took up newspaper work, we thought it would be better if I lived in chambers—”

“Certainly.”

“Well, at that time—” he examined the lighted
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end of his cigar—”there was no reason—why I should not live alone. But now—”