The Woman at The Door

by Warwick Deeping

  He did not see Miss Ballard on the steps, grimly gripping the handle of a suitcase and refusing to surrender it to a porter. Why should the fellow carry her suitcase to the coach and expect a tip? Nor, in that economical moment, did she notice the passing taxi. It drew away and began to ascend the hill beyond the market, and as it turned to the left by the grey stone church Luce’s embrace became less smothering. He readjusted Rachel’s hat for her.

  “My dear, that was a desperate business.”

  She was very pale. She had been made to realize during those tense moments that he and she were somehow on the edge of shipwreck.

  “Your headache, John?”

  “Headache? Had I a headache? And no more aspirin and unadvertised adventures. Do you know who was staying at the Hôtel Leman, and was waiting to leave by that motor-coach?”

  “No, John.”

  “Well, I shan’t tell you. Sufficient unto the day is the mercy thereof. But what on earth were you buying in Cerisy?”

  “Tea, John, and some more aspirin. It was silly of me, but we were nearly out of tea.”

  “Nearly out of tea! Did you get the aspirin?”

  “No, dear.”

  Luce laughed and kissed her.

  “Well, that’s a blessing! A packet of tea and a bottle of aspirin nearly let the serpent into paradise!”

  THE END

  TRANSCRIBER NOTES

  Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.

  Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.

  [The end of The Woman at the Door by Warwick Deeping]