"Huh!… I liked your looks—like 'em yet. Like everybody's looks who works here, or I wouldn't have 'em…. You're all right, I'll bet a dollar—all RIGHT…. You know young Foote got you your job here?"
He saw the sudden intake of her breath as Bonbright's name was mentioned. "Yes," she said, faintly.
"What about him?… Know him well? LIKE HIM?"
"I—I know him quite well, Mr. Lightener. Yes, I—like him."
"Trust him?"
She looked at him a moment before replying; then her chin lifted a trifle and there came a glint into her eyes. "Absolutely," she said.
"Um!… Good enough. So do I…. Enough to let him play around with my daughter…. Has he anything to do with the way you look to-day?… Not a fair question—yet. You needn't answer."
"I shouldn't," she said, and he smiled at the asperity of her tone.
"Mr. Bonbright Foote seems to be causing his family anxiety," he said. "He's disappeared…. I guess they think you carried him off. Did you go somewhere with him in his car last night?"
"You have no right to question me, Mr. Lightener."