"Smile. Oh, Jim, isn't there any decency in men?"
His mind was working like mad; he stared at her, then through the astonishment and consternation on his good-looking features a faint grin broke out.
"All right," she whispered, and let him go.
Molly, idling at the piano, heard his tread behind her, and looked up over her shoulder.
"Hello, Jim," she said, faintly.
"Hello, ducky. Strelsa says you have something to tell me."
"I—Jim?"
"So she said. So I cut out a long one to find out what it is. What's up, ducky?"
Molly's gaze grew keener: "Did that child tell you?"
"She said that you had something to tell me."