"I'm only asking you," she said. "Don't be so hard on me. I had to have some one when Lenny left me. He's been the only one since Lenny. And he was all right until he tired of me."
"Who's the brute you're talking about?"
"He's a gentleman. That's all I can tell you."
"Sounds pretty high class. And where does this gentleman hang out?"
"I oughtn't to tell you. He's a painter, and he's awfully well known. Well—it's somewhere in the West End, and we had a flat in Bloomsbury."
She answered his wonder. "I met him in Paris. He took me away from there, and I've been with him all the time. There wasn't anybody else. I swear there wasn't—I swear."
"Oh, you needn't."
He got up and walked away.
"Ranny—don't go for the cab until I've told you everything."
"I'm not going. What more have you got to say?"