“I’ve been taking Bonnie May for a visit.”
“Oh!—her. I wanted to ask you. Who is she?” Baron was unlocking the door. “Her name is Bonnie May,” he said.
“Oh, I know that. I mean, who is she? A grandchild, or something?”
“I haven’t any grandchildren. Suppose we go into the house.”
“I don’t see why I shouldn’t know who she is. It seems a pity to me that you can’t say something.” Baggot threw his cigarette into the street and followed Baron into the house and up into the attic. Arrived there he renewed his attack.
“While it seems improbable that you can add anything to the very explicit account you have given me of Bonnie May, I’d like to say that I’m curious to know who she is.”
Baron turned upon him quietly. “In view of your unchallengeable right to ask questions about a guest who happens to be in this house, I will explain that she is an actress by profession, and that being out of an engagement just now, she is accepting our hospitality.”
Baggot was undisturbed. He exclaimed: “Well, I thought——!”
“You thought——?”
“That I recognized her! Her ways, I mean. You could tell there was something about her....”