But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. “With your permission,” he said to Anna, “I shall arrange a bed for him where he is. You need have no apprehensions about him, Sir Rowland. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. Melusine was silent, revolving this outcome in her mind as she stared at Roding, who was frowning at her in a puzzled way. ‘No, but I seen the light, sir. Marvel, who had been a little discomposed by the treatment he had experienced on Holborn Hill, very composedly filled and lighted his pipe.
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