“That’s all you know,” said Roland, and his voice assumed a tone that made Brewster look up quickly.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“Well, I know someone who is doing their best to.”
Brewster flushed; the hand that was carrying a cream cake to his mouth paused in mid air.
“A girl! Who?”
“That’s asking.”
Roland had at last succeeded in arousing Brewster’s curiosity, and he was wise enough to refrain from satisfying it at once. If he were to tell him that a girl down town had wanted to go for a walk with him, Brewster would have laughed and probably thought no more about it. He would have to fan his interest till Brewster’s imagination had had time to play upon the idea.
“She’s very pretty,” Roland said, “and she asked me who you were. She was awfully keen to meet you, but I told her that it was no good and that you wouldn’t care for that sort of thing. She was very disappointed.”
“Yes, but who is she?”
“I’m not going to tell you that. Why should I give her away?”