“That was wonderful! Yes, the tea was too, but I’m thinking about Gonsalez. If it should be he!”
“I don’t see why you should get excited over a man who’s committed I don’t know how many murders.”
“Don’t be silly, Alma!” scoffed the girl. “The Just Men have never murdered, any more than a judge and jury murder.”
The room was still inclined to go round, and it was with the greatest difficulty that she could condense the two Almas who stood before her into one tangible individual.
“There’s a gentleman downstairs: he’s been waiting since twelve.”
And when she asked, she was to learn, to her dismay, that it was half-past one.
“I’ll be down in a quarter of an hour,” she said recklessly. “Who is it?”
“I’ve never heard of him before, but he’s a gentleman,” was the unsatisfactory reply. “They didn’t want to let him come in.”
“Who didn’t?”
“The gentlemen who brought you here in the night.”