But I dare not accept it. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. Apparently, Jonathan was well acquainted with the premises; for, feeling about in the dark, he speedily discovered a ladder, up the steps of which he hurried. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo. He wore a long coat, beautifully flowered, and a hat with a turned up brim. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. I am not boring you, am I?” She raised her eyes to his and smiled into his face.
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