“No.”
“I’ve been to her room and knocked, but no one seems to be in.”
“Did you have an appointment with her?”
“Not exactly an appointment.”
“Oh!”
For a time they were silent.
Then Carter said, in an offhand way:
“What does Miss Peters do?”
“She sings in a concert hall over on the West Side,” Darwin replied.
“I often wondered what she worked at to keep her out so late at night.”