“It looks so,—doesn’t it?”
“Yes,—but that’s no answer. Do you think they are?”
“I do, Mrs Blackwood,—I surely do.”
And Pennington Wise walked briskly over to the bungalow of Lawrence North.
He found Mills in no kindly mood.
“Whatcha want now?” was his greeting, and his scowl pointed his words.
“I want you to take me out for a sail in Mr North’s motor boat.”
“Well, you gotcha nerve with you! What makes you think I’ll do that?”
“Because it’s for your own best interests to do so.”
Wise looked the man straight in the eye, and had the satisfaction of seeing Mills’ own gaze waver.