“Listen!” cried the girl. “He’s speaking. English, isn’t he?”
“It seems to be a mixture of English, French, and Spanish. Quite a polyglot the friend of your friend Perkins appears to be.”
She turned steady eyes upon him.
“Mr. Perkins is not my friend.”
“No?”
“I never want to see him, or to hear his name again.”
“Ah, then you’ve found out about him?”
“Yes.” She flushed. “Yes—at least—Yes,” she concluded.
“He admitted it to you?”
“No, he lied about it.”