"Where did you meet the Paynters, did they call for you?" he asked eagerly and she shook her head.
"No, I met them at Queens Hall. I was late and they had gone into the hall. But that is beside the point. I am not helping you in this matter."
"But you must, you must," he was frenzied. "Moropulos knows—he saw you come into the flat—and come out."
There was a dead silence.
"When—on that night?"
She walked across the room, her hands clasped behind her. Ronnie had expected hysteria—he marveled at her calm.
"Very well," she said at last. "I dined with you and Moropulos. You had better invent another lady. Let us be decent, even in our inventions. And Mr. Moropulos entertained us with talk about—what?"
"Anything," nervously, "I know that you think I'm a brute—I can't tell you what I think about myself."
"I can save you the trouble. You think you are in danger and you are hating me because I am the cause."
"Beryl!"