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Updated: April 30, 2025
Miss Cicely Farmond's air as she entered Simon Rattar's room seemed compounded of a little shyness, considerable trepidation, and yet more determination.
"I thought so." "How the devil did you guess?" "Tell me Miss Farmond's story first and I'll tell you how I guessed." "Well, she spotted you were a detective " Carrington started and then laughed. "Confound these women!" said he. "They're so infernally independent of reason, they always spot things they shouldn't!"
He had a large bedroom furnished half as a sitting room where he retired each night to compose his masterpieces as soon as it became impossible to enjoy Miss Farmond's company without having to share it in the drawing room with his host and hostess.
Simon's grunt seemed to signify considerable doubt as to the morals of the type of relative. "But what sort of girl is she otherwise?" "I should call Miss Farmond the insinuating type. A young man like yourself would probably find her very attractive at first anyhow." Mr. Carrington seemed to ponder for a moment on this suggestive description of Miss Farmond's allurements.
The stations were few and far between and most desolate, improbable places as endings for Cicely Farmond's journey. He looked out of the window at each of them, but she never alighted. "She's going to find herself stuck for the night. That's about the size of it," he said to himself as they left the last station before the journey ended.
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