“How? Facts!”
“By the means of unintentional eavesdropping in this very verandah.”
“Eavesdropping?”
“Yes, you know how sounds ascend. I was sitting up here last night alone, enjoying the glorious view, and moonlight—vaguely aware that some men were talking and smoking just below, and one of them who had a loud, resonant voice, was describing someone who was splendid sport. When he said ‘a flapper of seventeen,’ I pricked up my ears at once.
“‘Knows her way about,’ he went on, ‘uncommonly handsome—and up to all sorts of games.’
“Letty, I leant nearer, and listened shamelessly, and another voice asked:
“‘Where does she hang out?’
“‘At a farm up the hill here, a place called Les Plans.’
“‘Oh,’ said the other, ‘a native?’
“‘No—English—and by way of being a lady. She has lived here with her mother since she was a kid; the mother is a damned pretty woman——’