"Who are you?" inquired Mrs. She reads novels—and history—and all sorts of things. ‘Something wrong, madame?’ Her fan came up swiftly, hiding the lower part of her face. The hotel manager was expostulating and Ah Cum was replying by a series of expressive shrugs. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. Mrs. There was no reason why she shouldn’t be his restrained and dignified friend. She had seen for herself right up in the bedroom window with her binoculars when Joanie was gone shopping one night, right with her own eyes.
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