The face was whiter, more transparent, than he had ever seen it.
"You don't look as if you'd had a wink of sleep."
Although Singleton had vanished, Nan showed little disposition to linger. As Napier stood there, looking down at the face alight with fidelity and eager service, he knew in his soul he was thankful there wasn't time, nor this the place, to wring her heart with the disgraceful truth about her friend. The last thing he expected to say was the first to come out.
"A ... you don't gather, I suppose, that Miss Greta is at all harassed about money?"
"It is kind of you to think that!" She smiled at him. "The fact is, Greta—that is, I did cable home last night. I am going back to the bank now, to see if they've heard."
Napier arrested her slight movement. "Just let me understand. Do you mean that you've overdrawn your account?"
"Oh, not overdrawn. But the gold I got this morning just finished it. I seem to have needed a good deal of money lately, one way and another."
"You got gold this morning, you say?"
"Yes; wasn't it lucky? Greta has a prejudice against paper money. She thinks it unsanitary."
"Oh, I see. And you were able to give her all she needs—of the sanitary sort?"