Miller."
Nora was evidently neither attired nor equipped this afternoon for a tea
party at Claridge's. She wore a dark blue princess frock, buttoned
right up to the throat. Her hair was brushed straight back from her
head, revealing a little more completely her finely shaped forehead.
She was seated before a round table covered with papers, and Tallente
fancied, even as he crossed the threshold, that there was an electric
atmosphere in the little apartment, an impression which the smouldering
fire in her eyes, as she glanced up, confirmed. The change in her
expression, however, as she recognised her visitor, was instantaneous.
A delightful smile of welcome chased away the sombreness of her face.
"My dear man," she exclaimed, "come and sit down and help me to forget
that annoying person who has just gone out!"
Tallente smiled.
"Miller is not one of your favorites, then?"
"Isn't he the most impossible person who ever breathed." she replied.
"He was a conscientious objector during the war, a sex fanatic
since--Mr. Dartrey had to use all his influence to keep him out of
prison for writing those scurrulous articles in the Comet--and I think
he is one of the smallest-minded, most untrustworthy persons I ever met.
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