The cruelty of that speech made Gregg flush and look up sharply. This was exactly what Ronicky Doone wanted.
"I guess they ain't any use talking about that part of it," said Gregg huskily.
"Ain't there? That's where you and me don't agree! Why, Bill, look at the way things have gone! You start out with a photograph of a girl. Now you've followed her, found her name, tracked her clear across the continent and know her street address, and you've given her a chance to see your own face. Ain't that something done? After you've done all that are you going to give up now? Not you, Bill! You're going to buck up and go ahead full steam. Eh?"
Bill Gregg smiled sourly. "D'you know what she said when I come rushing up and saying: 'I'm Bill Gregg!' D'you know what she said?"
"Well?"
"'Bill Gregg?' she says. 'I don't remember any such name!'
"That took the wind out of me. I only had enough left to say: 'The gent that was writing those papers to the correspondence school to you from the West, the one you sent your picture to and—'
"'Sent my picture to!' she says and looks as if the ground had opened under her feet. 'You're mad!' she says. And then she looks back over her shoulder as much as to wish she was safe back in her house!"
"D'you know why she looked back over her shoulder?"
"Just for the reason I told you."