“Is it Mr. King who’s interested in me?” she asked, timidly.
Molly’s eyes narrowed into small slits.
“No, it isn’t Mr. King who’s interested in you!” she replied a trifle mockingly. “Mr. King’s too sick to be interested in anybody.”
Jinnie couldn’t refrain from saying, “He looked awful ill when I saw him at the hospital.”
Molly stared at her blankly. She grew dizzy and very angry. This girl always made her rage within herself.
“You’ve seen him since—since––”
A maddened expression leapt into Molly’s eyes.
“I drive there every day, but they won’t let me see him,” she said, reddening.
“Mr. King sent for me,” Jinnie replied, resolutely.
And as the girl admitted this, with deepening flushes, Molly looked away. When she had first spoken of Jinnie’s future to Jordan Morse, she had pleaded with him to be kind to her, but now she could surround that white throat and strangle the breath from it without compunction. 278