“The first machine, you mean?”
“The first—and the second.” He smiled. “As a matter of fact, she took away again what she brought.”
“Miss Rivers’s?”
He nodded.
“There was absolutely nothing wrong with it—mere fad. Women start these fancies. The click of the thing gets on their nerves, I suppose. We must protect ourselves, you see; and I’ll warrant she finds it perfection now.”
“Perhaps she does. What was Miss Rivers’s address?”
He gave me, with a positive grin this time, the “converted” flat.
“But that was only latterly,” he said. “She had moved from——”
He directed me elsewhere.
“Why,” said I, taking up my hat, “did you call her ‘poor Lucy Rivers’?”