“And I was there! And Ivy Hayes was there! And the man from the West was there! Quite a party!”
Phyllis laughed shrilly—not at all like her usual gentle laugh, and Barry watched her in alarm, lest she grow hysterical.
“I won’t,” she said, divining his fear. “I’m not hysterical, but I’m distracted. Oh, Phil, do help me!”
“Of course I will, little girl,” Barry held out his arms. “Come to me, Phyllis, let’s forget all the horrible things of life and just love each other—and belong.”
“No,” she drew away from him. “Not yet. If your name must be cleared—so must mine.”
“But your name isn’t even mentioned.”
“Yes, it is,” Phyllis said, speaking in a dull, slow way, “yes, it is—and the worst of it is, my name can’t be cleared.”
“Hush,” Barry cautioned, “somebody’s coming in.”
The street door closed, and a moment later, Manning Pollard made an appearance.
The conversation, though general, was not spontaneous, and after a short time, Barry took his leave. Though he did not consider Pollard an actual rival of his in Phyllis’ favor, yet he felt disgruntled when the other was present. And, too, he wanted to go off by himself to think over what Phyllis had said.