After a deal of vain abuse of Gilfoyle for abducting their child and thwarting her golden opportunity, Adna asked at last, “What does Mr. Dyckman think of all this?”
“You don't suppose I've told him I was married, do you?” Kedzie stormed. “Do I look as loony as all that?”
“Oh!” said Adna.
“Why, he doesn't even know my name is Thropp, to say nothing of Thropp-hyphen-Gilfoyle.”
“Oh!” said Adna.
“Who does he think you are?” asked Mrs. Thropp.
“Anita Adair, the famous favorite of the screen,” said Kedzie, rather advertisingly.
“Hadn't you better tell him?” Adna ventured.
“I don't dast. He'd never speak to me again. He'd run like a rabbit if he thought I was a grass widow.”
Mrs. Thropp remonstrated: “I don't believe he'd ever give you up. He must love you a heap if he wants to marry you.”