Blanche bared her teeth suddenly like a hurt animal. "Keep off that!" she said sharply.
"But that's why I wrote to you."
"Say!" cried Blanche, ugly and callous, "if it's only sob-stuff you're after, you come to the wrong shop, see? I don't deal in it! Me, I'm water-tight and nickel-plated!"
"Why can't you be natural with me?" murmured Pen.
"I am natural. If I wanted to work you for anything, I could turn the wringer till the tub overflowed. I'm famous for it. Real tears without the aid of the glycerine bottle. But you said you wanted to be on the level."
"Do I look soft?" challenged Pen.
"Don't ask me," said Blanche, refusing to look at her. "I don't get you at all. You're completely outside my experience."
Pen tried another line. "Have you been reading the newspapers about the Counsell case?"
"Off and on. I've had troubles of my own."
"Well," Pen said low-voiced—it cost her an effort to get it out, "Don Counsell is to me what I suppose Henry Talley was to you."