Penny loitered at the table until two elderly women had moved on. She was now alone with Sylvia Kippenberg. She would have no better opportunity to speak with her.
“Miss Kippenberg,” she began.
“Yes?” The young woman really gazed at the girl for the first time. Penny saw that her eyelids were red and swollen from recent tears.
“I should like to talk with you alone, please.”
“Do I know your name?” Miss Kippenberg asked coldly.
“Penny Parker.”
“Parker—Parker,” the young woman repeated and her eyes hardened. “Oh, yes, you are the girl who came to our place yesterday with that photographer! And you telephoned again this morning.”
“Yes,” Penny admitted reluctantly, “but—”
The young woman did not allow her to finish.
“I’ll not talk with you or any other reporter. You have no right to come here and annoy me.”