“And you’ll make him feel so cheap! Of course, you’ve got something up your sleeve—”
“Wish I had,” he muttered.
“Something deep and mysterious,” she went on in that confident tone. “That’s why you acted so queer toward some people. You had a purpose. It was a ruse. Wasn’t it now?” she concluded triumphantly.
“It was not.” Gruffly.
“Fibber! every time you fib, you’ve got to—” She put up her lips.
“This is getting monotonous,” grumbled Bob.
“On the contrary!” breathed the temperamental young thing. “I find it lovely. Maybe you’ll learn how sometime.”
“Don’t want to,” he snapped.
“Oh, yes, you do. But as I was saying, you got yourself put in that sanatorium to mislead everybody. It, too, was a ruse—a part of the game. It’s all very clear—at least, to me!”
He stared at her. And she called that clear? “When did you leave Mrs. Ralston’s?” he demanded.