Again he confronted the coldness of Barry's gaze and his own face changed suddenly, with swift surmise.
"Say, has she been here?" he broke out. "You've seen her, haven't you? I was sure I saw tracks. . . . Has she—has she told you anything?"
Barry leaned a little nearer the door-frame, drawing the door closer behind him. Through the crack Sandy's pointed noise and exploring eyes were fixed inquiringly upon the visitor and he whined eagerly as, scenting disapprobation in the air, he yearned to meet this trouble halfway.
"I think you had better," Barry told him.
"Better? Better what?"
"Better tell me—everything."
"Oh, all right, all right! I've nothing to conceal. I didn't go off my chump and behave like a darn lunatic in grand opera!"
Then very quickly Johnny veered from anger into confidence.
"Here's the whole story—and there's nothing to it. She's crazy—crazy with her foreign notions, I tell you. At first I thought she was trying to put something over on me, but I guess she's just genuinely crazy. It's the way she was brought up. They go mad over there and bite if you're left alone in a room with a girl."
Definitely Barry waited.