Night?" Gerry said. "So you know that story of Stevenson's, too?"
"Yes."
"I suppose, though, you had to stay at the Continental, or the Regina, or some hotel like that, didn't you? I did at first, when my tutor used to take me. You'd have been with your parents, of course"
"Of course," Ruth said.
"But have you planned where you'll stay now? You'll choose your own billets, I believe."
Ruth appealed to her memories of Du Maurier and Victor Hugo; she had read, long ago, Trilby and Les Misérables, of course, and Notre-Dame de Paris; and she knew a good bit about old Paris.
"The Latin Quarter's cheapest, I suppose."
"And any amount the most sport!"
She got along very well; or he was not at all critical. He was relaxing with her from the strain of being upon exhibition; and he seemed to be having a very good time. The joy of this made her bold to plan with him all sorts of explorations of Paris when they would meet over there with a day off. She looked away and closed her eyes for a second, half expecting that when she opened them the sound of music, and the roses, and palms, and conservatory, and Gerry Hull must have vanished; but he was there when she glanced back. And she noticed agreeable and pleasing things about him—the way his dark hair brushed back above his temples, the character in his strong, well-formed hands.
Lady Agnes came out looking for him; and he called her over:
