"For Europe," said Susan. She was drawing her fingers slowly one by one from the fingers of her glove.
"Yes. He sailed, it seems, on impulse barely time to climb aboard. Fitz always lays everything to a woman. He says Brent has been mixed up for a year or so with—— Oh, it doesn't matter. I oughtn't to repeat those things. I don't believe 'em—on principle. Every man—or woman—who amounts to anything has scandal talked about him or her all the time. Good Lord! If Robert Brent bothered with half the affairs that are credited to him, he'd have no time or strength—not to speak of brains—to do plays."
"I guess even the busiest man manages to fit a woman in somehow," observed Susan. "A woman or so."
Sperry laughed. "I guess yes," said he. "But as to Brent, most of the scandal about him is due to a fad of his—hunting for an undeveloped female genius who——"
"I've heard of that," interrupted Susan. "The service is dreadfully slow here. How long is it since you ordered?"
"Twenty minutes—and here comes our waiter." And then, being one of those who must finish whatever they have begun, he went on. "Well, it's true Brent does pick up and drop a good many ladies of one kind and another. And naturally, every one of them is good-looking and clever or he'd not start in. But—you may laugh at me if you like—I think he's strictly business with all of them. He'd have got into trouble if he hadn't been. And Fitz admits this one woman—she's a society woman—is the only one there's any real basis for talk about in connection with Brent."
Susan had several times lifted a spoonful of soup to her lips and had every time lowered it untasted.
"And Brent's mighty decent to those he tries and has to give up. I know of one woman he carried on his pay roll for nearly two years——"
"Let's drop Mr. Brent," cried Susan. "Tell me about—about the play."
"Rod must be giving you an overdose of that."