Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. " "I don't care if he is," rejoined Thames, boldly. It seems to me very silly. Quite ordinary. “These clothes are French, and I’m sure this floppy bow would make a Frenchman of me anyhow. It is in vain to struggle against the arm of fate. Clearing the recess the instant after his companion, he flew to the door of the inner room, and, locking it, took out the key. ” “She doesn’t care for him now?” “Not a bit. . She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. She did not bother with the backpack despite its due tomorrow status. Ever since the young police officer had arrived on her doorstep the clock had started ticking faster. I pity her from the bottom of my heart.
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