He shivered and looked behind as he stepped into his hansom. There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. Stanley and his sister into a taxicab, and had waved an amiable farewell from the pavement steps. Of what was she thinking? She must rescue herself. I am far too much the gentleman. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. I'm having some unexpected guests. She went to the basement and shed her sodden coat and scarf, tossing them into her favorite modern appliance, the electric dryer. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. ‘I can’t think how I’ve tolerated myself all these years.
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