There was no time." "I don't know where he is," she continued; "please don't tell me.

I don't want to know until he wants me to know." Larry had been making a swift appraisal of her.

She was perhaps thirty, fair, with golden-brown hair held in place by a large comb of wrought gold, with violet-blue eyes, wearing a low-cut gown of violet chiffon velvet and dull gold shoes.

Larry's instinct told him that here was a patrician, a thoroughbred: with poise, with a knowledge of the world, with whimsical humor, with a kindly understanding of people, with steel in her, and with a smiling readiness for almost any situation.
"I think no one will find you--at least for the present," her pleasantly modulated voice continued.

"There are so many things I want to talk over with you.