“Meaning myself.”
“Liar.”
“Well, aren’t I that kind of a girl? And if I aren’t, why didn’t he recall me, or even look at me twice?”
“Perhaps he’s engrossed in his own troubles.”
“Didn’t look as if he had a trouble in the world.”
“No; Jack wouldn’t if he were to be shot at sunrise.”
“Is he?”
“Not that I know of. But he’s going to be exiled or forced into hiding or something evasive and lonely. Some boresome family row that threatens to burst into a lawsuit, and when it does, Jack has to take cover and keep it until it’s over, so as not to be called as a witness. So you needn’t feel insulted simply because he is brooding on his own affairs to the neglect—”
“I’m not feeling insulted,” denied the girl vigorously. “It’s nothing to me whether people remember me or not.” Suddenly her face sparkled and her mobile lips quivered delicately with suppressed glee. “Oh, but I have been insulted. I’ve saved it up to tell you.”
“Business of listening eagerly,” said the actress. “Who did it?”