"She is a friend of mine. No, I mean what I say; there is absolutely nothing else between us, and never has been. I should like to know whether you are satisfied to believe that; much depends on it."
"Age and appearance?"
"About twenty—not quite so much—and strikingly handsome."
"H'm. Position in life?"
"A year ago was on the streets, to put it plainly; since then has been getting her living at laundry-work."
"H'm. Name?"
"Ida Starr."
Mr. Woodstock had been gazing at the toes of his boots, still the same smile on his face. When he heard the name he ceased to smile, but did not move at all. Nor did he look up as he asked the next question.
"Is that her real name?"
"I believe so."