'A hansom's the most private place in London,' he said after a pause.
It certainly did seem to her very cosy and private, and her nearness to one of the principal theatrical managers in America was almost startling. Her white frock, with the black velvet decorations, touched his gray suit.
'Now,' he said, 'I do wish you'd tell me why you were in my parlour last night. Honest.'
'What for?' she parried, to gain time.
Should she begin to disclose her identity?
'Because—well, because—oh, look here, my girl, I want to be on very peculiar terms with you. I want to straighten out everything. You'll be sort of struck, but I'll be bound to tell you I'm your father. Now, don't faint or anything.'
'Oh, I knew that!' she gasped. 'I saw the moles on your wrist when your were registering—mother told me about them. Oh, if I had only known you knew!'
They looked at one another.
'It was only the day before yesterday I found out I possessed such a thing as a daughter. I had a kind of fancy to go around to the old spot. This notion of me having a daughter struck me considerable, and I concluded to trace her and size her up at once.' Nina was bound to smile. 'So your poor mother's been dead three years?'
'Yes,' said Nina.