Annan walked through the corridor into the front bed-room and turned on his light.
He seemed to be much amused with the situation,—a little worried, too.
“She’ll get in Dutch if she doesn’t look out,” he thought as he went about his preparations for the night.... “A funny type.... Rather convincing.... Or a consummate actress.... But she’s most amusing anyway. Let’s see how she turns out.... She looks hungry.... What a little fool!... Now, you couldn’t put this over on the stage or in a story.... Your public is too wise. They don’t grow that kind of girl these days.... That’s romantic stuff and it won’t go with the wise guy.... You can’t pull a character like this girl on any New York audience. And yet, there she is—in there, scrubbing herself, if I can judge by the sound of running water.... No, she doesn’t exist.... And yet, there she is!... Only I’m too clever to believe in her.... There is no fool like a smart one.... That is why the Great American Ass is the greatest ass on earth....”
CHAPTER IX
MRS. SNIFFEN, who had looked after Annan for thirty years, found him bathed, shaved, and dressed, and busy writing when she brought him his breakfast tray.
“The gentleman in the other room, Mr. Barry—when is he to ’ave ’is breakfast?”
“It’s a lady, old dear.”
Mrs. Sniffen’s pointed nose went up with a jerk. He had been counting on that. He liked to see Mrs. Sniffen’s nose jerk upward.
“A pretty lady,” he added, “with bobbed hair. I met her accidentally about two o’clock this morning in Central Park.”
When the effect upon Mrs. Sniffen had sufficiently diverted him, he told her very briefly the story of Eris.