This decision appeared to lubricate her conscience; it ran more smoothly now, emitting fewer creaks.
"You say that you know Mr.Quarrier ?" she began thoughtfully.
"Not well." "I--hope you will like him, Mr.Siward." "I do not think he likes me, Miss Landis.

He has reasons not to." She looked up, suddenly remembering: "Oh--since that scrape?
What has Mr.Quarrier to do--" She did not finish the sentence.

A troubled silence followed; she was trying to remember the details--something she had paid small attention to at the time--something so foreign to her, so distant from her comprehension that it had not touched her closely enough for her to remember exactly what this young man might have done to forfeit the good-will of Howard Quarrier.
She looked at Siward; it was impossible that anything very bad could come from such a man.

And, pursuing her reasoning aloud: "It couldn't have been very awful," she argued; "something foolish about an actress, was it not?
And that could not concern Mr.Quarrier." "I thought you did know; I thought you--remembered--while you were driving me over from the station--that I was dropped from my club." She flushed up: "Oh!--but--what had Mr.Quarrier to do with that ?" "He is a governor of that club." "You mean that Mr.Quarrier had you--dropped ?" "What else could he do?
A man who is idiot enough to risk making his own club notorious, must take the consequences.

And they say I took that risk.