Miriam stared back at the long row of interviews with Mrs. Bailey and sought her face for her invisible thoughts.
“Well to come straight to the point without beating about the bush, it’s about him, that little man, you know who I mean.”
“Who?”
“Mendizzable.”
Miriam’s interest awoke and flared. That past patch of happy life had been somehow or other visible to Mrs. Bailey. She felt decorated and smiled into the room.
“Well; you know I don’t believe in talk going about from one to another. In my opinion people should mind their own business and not listen to tittle-tattle, or if they do, keep it to themselves without passing it on and making mischief.”
“Has someone been trying to make mischief about poor little Mr. Mendizabal?”
“Well, if it was about him I wouldn’t mind so much. Little villain. That’s my name for him.”
“Fascinating little villain if he must be called a villain.”
“Well; that’s what I’ve got to ask you my chahld; are you under a fascination about him? You’ll excuse me asking such a question.”