"Lost your job?"
"No."
He was baffled! but he knew that something was amiss. Sally could feel him drawing deep breaths. In the shadow she could imagine that his jaw was firmly set. It was strange to feel so happy in his arms, so afraid of death, so frustrated in the composition of any tale by which she could free herself and thus gain time to make some fresh plan. Sally had never been in a comparable quandary.
"Where you living?" he next demanded.
"Don't be rough. You're hurting. Well, I'm living. I forget the address. Only went there last night. I'm with a friend."
"What sort of a friend? A girl? What's her name?"
"Miss Summers."
Toby considered. He had heard that name, Sally knew, and must remember it. She felt that at last she had stumbled upon something which would seem to him probable enough to allay immediate suspicion.
"She's your forewoman or something, isn't she?" he demanded.