"But, Mr. Laramie——"
"No—Jim."
"But——"
"Every time you call me Mr. Laramie I'm looking around for a gentleman. Why can't you be the way you were the first time?"
She realized his eyes were on her, demanding the truth—and his eyes were uncomfortably steady as she had reason to know. "If I spoke I should hurt your feelings," she urged, summoning all her courage. "You know as well as I do that the first time I met you I didn't know who you were."
He did not seem much disconcerted, except that he tossed away the unlighted cigarette. "You don't know now," was his only comment.
"I can't help knowing what is said about you—you and your friends."
He made an impatient gesture. "That gives you no clue to me."
"What are people to believe when such stories are public property?"
"Only what they know to be true."