“Where has Mr. Winfield gone?”
“How should I know?”
“How should you know? Because he told you, I should imagine. Where—has—Mr.—Winfield—gone?”
“C’nnecticut,” said Mr. Penway, finally capitulating.
“What part of Connecticut?”
“I don’t know.”
“What part of Connecticut?”
“I tell you I don’t know. He said: ‘I’m off to Connecticut,’ and left.” It suddenly struck Mr. Penway that his defeat was not so overwhelming as he had imagined. “So you haven’t got much out of me, you see, after all,” he added.
Mrs. Porter rose.
“On the contrary,” she said; “I have got out of you precisely the information which I required, and in considerably less time than I had supposed likely. If it interests you, I may tell you that Mr. Winfield has gone to a small house which he owns in the Connecticut woods.”