Wood was heard without, angrily demanding admittance. Drink for him had a queer phase. “I should imagine,” he said, shaking out a copy of The Times, “that it is your brain which is addled. They have no amenities, they scratch the mellow surface of things almost as if they did it on purpose; and Lady Palsworthy and Mrs. Tol-de-rol!" As Jack concluded his ditty, the door flew open with a crash, and Thames sprang through the aperture. Her mouth was once more covered as they left the second floor guest saloon and headed for the back stairs. He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a grand piano.
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