"Why not?"
"He's not—well, a Paul Bartlett."
"He isn't a Jake Meyer, either, if that's what you mean," retorted Amy, rising on her elbow. "I like Rosey and make no bones of telling you. What have you got at the back of your big brown eyes there? Somebody has been stuffing you, I guess. Was it some kind friend at Meyer & Schwarzschild's? What did they say about Rosey and me?"
"Nothing," answered Jean, suspicious of her warmth; but now told her plainly whom and what they had mentioned.
Amy listened without surprise.
"There was bound to be some gossip," she commented, at length. "I counted on it."
"You counted on it!"
"Certainly. Jake knew the buyer's record from A to Z, and there were others."
Jean had a moment's giddiness, and shrank from her explorations.
"Did you?" she faltered.