Ezra P. Hipps crossed the room and put a hand on her arm.
"Come on, dear. What's the trouble?"
"I wouldn't mind," she returned, "if he weren't so—so desperately plucky."
"Hm!" said Van Diest. "I think it was a goot idea that you don't go to see this young man any more."
"That's nonsense," she replied hotly. "I'll see him. Besides he's used to my coming and if I didn't turn up he——"
"Disappointed," suggested Hipps.
"Exactly," said Laurence. "Perhaps it 'ud be a good idea to vary the programme for a day or two. Use the siren a bit more freely at night and cut down his water supply. If he isn't ready to talk in another forty-eight hours I'll be surprised."
"Had a word with him yet?" demanded Hipps.
"Not this morning."
"Then you and Van try a few sweet speeches."