His curiosity put itself into a question. “I dare not,” she answered. ‘She?’ ‘Damnation!’ He saw her frown, and added at once, ‘I beg your pardon, ma’am. Both of them would be committing novel and unforgettable acts. Listening on the dimlit landing, he saw Roding’s face muscles tighten. The door is open, so it is needless to ask leave to enter. It was Celeste’s idea. She was the High Priestess. "I wish to overtake Lady Trafford. His clothes had evidently seen some service, and were plentifully begrimed with the dust of the workshop.
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