‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. ” She tried to sound convincing as she looked away hotly. Happy Birthday, then. It was there in the breast pocket, stiff and legal looking. ’ It was thus in stony silence that the pair traversed the short distance to Stratton Street, where Roding knocked on the major’s door and entered a pleasant woodpanelled hall, with his prisoner firmly in tow. She thought of him as always courteous and helpful, as realizing, indeed, his ideal of protection and service, as chivalrously leaving her free to live her own life, rejoicing with an infinite generosity in every detail of her irresponsive being. His expression became pained. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him.
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