"That's why, that's why!" She clutched the silk coverlid. "The people who know how to deal with these things have got to know. Though for me to have to tell them,"—her eyes filled—"it's an awful thing!"
He saw a way to ingratiate himself.
"I think I can save you that," he said.
"Can you? Can you? Oh, I'd be endlessly thankful!"
"I didn't say that nobody knew where to find the lady. Lord, it made her sit up straighter than ever."
"I was right, then," she said. "I felt you'd be the one to know. But you are keeping back something. Mr. Singleton, what has happened to Greta?"
He told her nothing very serious had happened as yet.
She lay back on the cushions an instant, with her chin up and her eyes on the window cornice.
"Then—I'm—not too late," she said.
"Too late for what?"