“Certainly,” Aggie answered, hospitably. “Please sit down.”
As the girl obediently sank down on the nearest chair, Garson addressed her sharply, so that the visitor started uneasily at the unexpected sound.
“You don't know Miss Turner?”
“No,” came the faint reply.
“Then, what do you want to see her about?”
There was a brief pause before the girl could pluck up courage enough for an answer. Then, it was spoken confusedly, almost in a whisper.
“She once helped a girl friend of mine, and I thought—I thought——”
“You thought she might help you,” Garson interrupted.
But Aggie, too, possessed some perceptive powers, despite the fact that she preferred to use them little in ordinary affairs.
“You have been in stir—prison, I mean.” She hastily corrected the lapse into underworld slang.