"Tell me something," she said.
Slipping from her perch, she drew up a chair and, seating herself, bent forward with her chin on her hands.
"You've heard of the Beestons, haven't you—that family uptown. By any chance do you know them?"
"The Beestons!"
She saw him frown, his air amazed. However, though she wondered at the moment at his air, her interest was entirely in what he would answer.
"Why do you ask?" he inquired.
"I wanted to know," Bab returned slowly. "I wanted to find out something. Do they ever give parties—dances like the one you're going to tonight? And do you ever go to them?"
Varick's look grew all the more amazed. He not only knew the Beestons, he had often been in the huge house they occupied in one of the uptown side streets off the Avenue. But though that was true, for some reason the fact did not seem to afford him any great satisfaction. His face suddenly had grown hard.
"Who told you about them?" he demanded.
Bab smiled vaguely.