"No, I don't," said Phil, wonderingly.
"She knows you, and—well, I may be doing the wrong thing, but I wish you could come here."
"Where, please? and why should I come? I don't know Miss Adams,—I'm sure."
"She is a dark-haired girl, with big, brown eyes, and a Western way of speaking—"
"What? Has she just come to you? Does she wear a tan-coloured cloth suit,—and a hat with coque feathers?"
"Yes, she does! Now will you come?"
"Where? Who are you?—I mean, may I ask your name?"
"I am Miss Grayson,—a motion-picture actress—"
"Yes, yes,—where are you? Where shall I come?"
"To my home in New York City." She gave him the address. "You see, Miss Adams came here because she knows Miss Frawley,—we live together—but Miss Frawley is out of town,—and I persuaded Miss Adams to stay with me until her return. I can't make out the trouble, but I have learned the address of the Farnsworths and—oh, well, I may as well tell you, Miss Adams talked in her sleep. She arrived here utterly exhausted, and on the verge of nervous prostration. But, it may be, some sleep will set her nerves right, if the cause of the trouble can be removed. And,—I know I am intruding,—but I can't help thinking that it's a lovers' quarrel, and you can set it right!"