Frances felt strangely 'on the spot' and under scrutiny, with Marshall Guyer walking along side of her and occasionally helping her. To be honest, the only really useful parts of that were when he helped her across the street: she usually just had to rely on listening out and making it clear she was crossing to any silent approaching horsemen (vehicles she could usually hear coming, no matter how well oiled their springs and how jangle free their harness) and, of course, he knew where exactly they were going.
The room they finally reached, she knew she had never entered before: it had the faint odour of the bookshop she had sometimes visited back home where a pitiful few titles produced in 'New York Point' braille could be purchased, along with a hardly discernible smell of some feminine perfume.
"Miss Ada Fetterman, Miss Francis Grimes. She is here to see Mister Vaughn about his legal expertise."
With no point of reference, Frances had to content herself with saying "Hello" to the room at large.
"Welcome Miss Grimes."
"Thank you" Frances smiled to the area where the small but firm female voice had come from.
"Mister Vaughn should be back in just a few minutes. If you'd like to have a seat?" She offered, having seen her on the street before she was not taken aback by the cloth over her eyes. "He's just across the street."
Another "Thank you" and then "Could you lead me to the chair please? I don't know this room yet." It was the sort of polite but firm request for help that she was used to making... when she needed help.
Once she was seated, she asked "What is the name of this office, please. I might have to ask someone for directions, if I need to come here again." Because the Marshall had led her here, she had not been able to try and memorise the route as she normally would.