XIIIIt was a grim drive back to P Street in Georgetown, Washington D.C., . . . for Colonel Primrose chiefly.
“What are you doing, trying to incite Archie to murder?” I demanded, as soon as he’d closed the Seatons’ gate. “What possible chance has Molly got? You didn’t see her yesterday when she was frozen absolutely rigid with fear when Archie barged in. You’ll have her in St. Elizabeth’s in a week. And you haven’t any right to use Ginny this way . . . especially now Archie’s in love with Molly. It just isn’t fair. . . .”
It was an embittered monologue that continued on as monologues, female, are likely to, long after I’d said it all and gone back over it all, in the same and different words, until I suppose it was a diatribe, not a monologue. I know we were almost to the District line be
