What hotel should she go to? If she told a cabman to drive to an hotel, any hotel, what would he do—or say? He might drive to something dreadfully expensive, and not at all the quiet sort of thing she required. The doorbell tinkled and Michelle grabbed her purse and rushed down the creaky wooden stairs. No window. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. “After all,” she said, “if this person will not be reasonable, I am afraid——” It was enough. “Me and my bright ideas. ‘Quite mad, nuns are.
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