“Making love to her! Good Lord! With her dead husband lying in the next room!”
“Oh, Barry!”
“If he’d been a live one I might have done it. She was handsome enough to provoke any man into it. But a dead one! Deliver me from dead husbands!”
“That’s awfully interesting—and gruesome. Tell me about it, do!”
So Barry told her about his errand to Mrs. Bradley, the purport of it and the result of it. They were rolling up the Main Street of the city. Miss Chichester was not so absorbed in Barry’s story that she failed to bow and smile to people on the pavement whom she knew. It was something to be seen at dusk, alone with Barry Malleson, in his car.
“And are you going again to see her, and urge her to take the money?” inquired Miss Chichester when Barry had completed the account of his visit.
“Sure! I’m going again.”
“Let me go with you.”
“Eh? You go with me? What for?”
“Oh, just to see how such a remarkable woman acts and talks.”