"That you'll never see."
"But—"
"Oh, yes, I make a difference. There are men you receive in your room, and men you receive always in a parlor, and there's no trouble at all in classifying them!" She jumped up, with a laugh. "And you, with all your experience among my sex, can't make up your mind about me."
"You pay what? Eight—ten—fifteen a week. And you have your automobile," he said, pursuing his idea.
"Ah, that's it! Have I an auto or not? But that's not what you want to know! You want to know if some one gives me an automobile, and, if so, why? Well, have I or haven't I? Find out!"
"You know," he said in his deliberate dragging way, "I don't believe that story about the orchids!"
"What do you mean?" she said, with such a swift turn from provoking malice to erect gravity that he hesitated.
"There was a hundred-dollar bill in that bouquet, Miss Baxter!" he said, changing the attack slightly.
"A hundred!" she said, drawing herself up in surprise and scorn. "Ah! now I understand—everything. So that's why you are here! To get your value!"
"No—no," he protested, confused.