"Kitty?" she said, then shrugged. "Well, okay, I guess."
Fleetwood gazed at her absently, his mind on other things for a moment.
"What's the matter?" Kitty asked. "You look worried. You looked kind of dopey before, but now you look worried too."
"This Grant Dermitt," Fleetwood said. "What do you know about him?"
"Grant Dermitt?" Kitty said.
"The fellow who writes about me. You know."
"Oh, yeah. Grant Dermitt. What about him?"
"That's what I want to know," Fleetwood said. "What about him?"
"I don't know why I enjoy talking to you," Kitty said. "It never gets us anywhere. What do you want to know about this Grant Dermitt? Not that I can tell you anyway."
"I want to see him," Fleetwood said. "I have to get in touch with him."