"You are
very good to me. I shall not forget that either."
And she meant that some day she would confess to him that she was so
tired, and lonely, and disconsolate on this journey to Crowndale, and
so in need of the strength he could give, that she would have
surrendered herself gladly to the comfort of his arms, to the passion
that his touch aroused in her quickening blood!
Soon after ten o'clock they entered the town of Crowndale and drew up
before the unattractive portals of the Grand Palace Hotel. An arc lamp
swinging above the entrance shed a pitiless light upon the dreary,
God-forsaken hostelry with the ironic name.
Mr. Rushcroft was already at the desk, complaining bitterly of
everything seen and unseen. As a matter of habit he was roaring about
his room and, while he hadn't put so much as his nose inside of it, he
insisted on knowing what they meant by giving it to him. Mr. Bacon and
Mr. Dillingford were growling because there was no elevator to hoist
them two flights up, and Miss Thackeray was wanting to know WHY she
couldn't have a bit of supper served in her room.
"They're all alike," announced Mr. Rushcroft despairingly, addressing
the rafters. He meant hotels in general.
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