"Stop!"
Mary was shuddering at the allusion to references. Not only the thing itself, but the very word, had become hateful.
"Don't talk to me," she ordered. "I won't discuss anything with you."
Pete shrugged and pushed a plate of crackers and cheese toward her.
"Let's talk about your friend, anyhow," he suggested.
Mary rose to her feet abruptly and ran toward the door that opened into the hall. She opened it half-way and stood there, listening. Then she turned and beckoned mysteriously. When he had joined her she whispered:
"I thought I heard something—down-stairs. Listen."
For half a minute neither spoke.
"Sounds like somebody talking," he said, in a low voice. "But it seems far away. Maybe it's out in the street."
She shook her head.