"I've some of her letters which she sent me."
Mr. Haines, advancing, laid his hand gently on Miss Johnson's arm.
"Will you let me see her letters--my girl's, my Loo's?"
"Of course I will. You can come round and look at them now if you like. There's time before I'm due at the theatre." The young girl looked up at the old man with a curious interest. "She was an American. She used to talk to me about a place called Colorado."
"She was raised in Colorado. And that is where she left me. So you were her friend--my girl's friend?"
"Well, we were pals."
"Pals? Yes. You were pals."
Mr. Haines looked at Miss Johnson inquiringly, searchingly, as if he was endeavouring to ascertain, by force of visual inspection, what sort of girl she was.
Mr. Holman interposed.
"When you two have done palavering, perhaps Miss Hetty Johnson will be good enough to tell me what was this young woman's address at Brighton--that is, if she happens to remember it."