"I don't know," he said simply.
All the anger went out of Barbara, and a delicious little thrill passed through her from head to foot, leaving in its wake a clear rosy coloring.
"Bubbles," said the young man, "would die for you; but he is only a little boy. I am very strong."
Barbara refused to rise at the implication that the strong young man was also ready and even eager to die for her. "Tell me more about Blizzard," she said.
"He's one of the half-dozen men in the city that we would like to have an eye on night and day. We want him."
"Oh," she said, "then you are not here entirely on my account? It is also your business to be here?"
He nodded, not altogether pleased with the turn the matter had taken.
"In that case," she said, "I have no wish to stand in your way. But--I don't propose to be a cat's-paw. You may sit in Bubbles's room if you like, but I won't have you on your hands and knees at the studio door listening at the key-hole. That must be understood."
The young man flushed with righteous anger. "You don't look" he said, "as if you could say a thing like that to a fellow."
Instantly, and almost humbly, she begged his pardon.