Kosling at length became tired and irritated. “I’ve given you everything I have to give; told you all that I know,” he said petulantly. “I’m going to sleep. I wish I’d never seen you and never interested myself in that girl at all. As a matter of fact she—” His voice faltered as he choked off what he was going to say.
“What’s that?” Bertha asked pouncing on his unfinished sentence.
“Nothing.”
“What were you going to say?”
“Oh, nothing, except that — I’ve been disappointed in that girl.”
“What girl?”
“Josephine Dell.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, she never stopped by to see me. If she was able to return to work, she could certainly have stopped by long enough to say hello.”
“She was working at a different place,” Bertha explained. “When Harlow Milbers was alive, she was working down at that loft building where they had an office, but after his death, she had no occasion to go there. What work she did do was at his residence.”