At the little office at the end she found a girl, sandy-haired and
sandy-eyed, who looked up for a moment from a great book in front
of her, and before she could speak, said briskly, "There's no more
accommodation here. The place is full to overflowing. Better try
at the Good Hope over the way."
She had returned to her occupation before the words were well
uttered, but Sylvia stood motionless, a little giddy, leaning
against the woodwork for support.
"I only want to know," she said, after a moment, speaking with an
effort in a voice that sounded oddly muffled even to herself, "if
Mr. Ranger is here."
"Who?" The girl looked up sharply. "Hullo!" she said. "What's the
matter?"
"If Mr. Ranger--Mr. Ranger--is here," Sylvia repeated through a
curious mist that had gathered unaccountably around her.
The girl got up and came to her. "Yes, he's here, I believe, or
will be presently. He's engaged a room anyhow. I didn't see him
myself. Look here, you'd better come and sit down a minute. I
seem to remember you. You're Mrs. Ranger, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Sylvia.
She was past explanation just then, and that simple affirmative
seemed her only course. She leaned thankfully upon the supporting
arm, fighting blindly to retain her senses.
"Come and sit down!" the girl repeated. "I expect he'll be in
before long.
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