“Very well. How did she happen to take you? How did you happen to be with her?”
“I’ve always been with her. She’s all I’ve got.”
“We’re getting along nicely. You’re related to her, I suppose?”
“I couldn’t say. It’s possible.”
Baron frowned. “Your mother is dead?” he asked.
She gazed at him with a gathering cloud in her eyes—a look that was eloquent of secret sorrow and beseechment. But she made no response in words.
Baron felt the pangs of swift remorse. “I suppose Miss Barry will have to do,” he said, with an attempt at kindly brusqueness. Then—“Can you tell me her address?”
“I don’t suppose she has any. We’ve been doing one-night stands quite a long time.”
“But she must belong some place—and you, too. Where have you been stopping?”
“We only got here yesterday. I see you don’t quite understand. We’ve just been moving from place to place all the time.”