“Oh, no—” Eunice began, but Hendricks said, “Go on, Elliott, do. There are too many of us here, and as Eunice’s counsel, I can look after her interests.”
Mason Elliott rose, and turned to Eunice.
“Shall I go?” he said, and he gave her a look of entreaty—a look of yearning, pleading love.
“Go,” she said, coldly. “Alvord will take care of me.”
And Elliott went.
Chapter XVI
Fibsy’s Busy Day
“It’s this way, F. Stone,” said Fibsy, earnestly, “the crooks of the situation—”
“The what?”
“The crooks—that’s what they call it—”
“Oh, the crux.” Stone did not laugh.