Clare's eyes flashed. "Does he know you came?"
"No."
Clare turned to Wallace. "Does your sister know my real name?" she asked.
His pale face worked in a spasm. He coughed and swallowed. "N-n-no," he stammered.
"Now—just—wait—a—minute!" It was Balcome. He approached near enough to Wallace to slap him smartly on the shoulder with the hat. "You—told—me——"
"What does it matter?" argued the other. "One name's as good as another."
Balcome said no more. But he exchanged a look with Sue.
She glanced from Clare to Wallace, puzzled and troubled. Then, "I—I—don't know what this is all about," she ventured, "and I don't want to know. I just want to tell you, Miss Crosby, that—that he grieves for you—terribly. Oh, see him again! Forgive him if he's done anything! Give him another chance!"
"You're talking about something you don't understand," answered Clare, rudely.
Sue shook her head. "Well, I think I know a broken heart when I see one," she returned simply.