" "Offer them my hearty thanks," replied Jack, waving his hand to the group, all of whom returned the salutation. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. “I’ve had most of the things I wanted,” said Ramage, in the stillness of the night. The girl was pretty, and apparently a lady. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget.
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