The storm burst upon them in its fury. Seventeen hours, sixteen hours. Part 4 But presently, as she sat on the one antimacassared red silk chair and surveyed her hold-all and bag in that tidy, rather vacant, and dehumanized apartment, with its empty wardrobe and desert toilet-table and pictureless walls and stereotyped furnishings, a sudden blankness came upon her as though she didn’t matter, and had been thrust away into this impersonal corner, she and her gear. ‘I should have thought it was obvious. Quilt Arnold was stationed at the stair-head, near which the boat containing the captive boy was moored. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy.
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