“—to Kent Rehan, John Carey, and this probable but unknown third. There I hang fire. Until I make up my mind on which of the three her love story hinges, I can’t do more than trifle with the Life. And how shall I make up my mind?”
“Three?” said Mr. Flood. “Two. You can eliminate the husband. He’s fifth act, not third.”
“Yes, of course. But I never jump a step. Which leaves me the unknown—or Kent.”
The blonde lady leant forward rather eagerly—
“Nita! Where’s that letter?”
“I’ll get it.” She went across the room to her writing-table.
The Baxter girl twisted her head.
“I say! He’s coming down the stairs.”
“If she read aloud that draft——” the blonde lady’s drawl had disappeared. She glittered like an excited schoolgirl—“he might recognize——”
“You mean——?” Mr. Flood raised his eyebrows but Anita, fumbling with her keys, did not hear.