Rose went on, not even hearing him. I got her suitcase in one hand and gripped her arm with the other and turned her around, and the idea of her nonmarrying Harry marrying another girl, in spite of his being dead, occupied her brain so that she kept right on spitting compliments without even knowing I was propelling her out of the room until we were in the hall. Then she went flat-footed and shut her mouth and glared at me.
“On up two flights,” I said. “Or I know how to carry you so you can’t bite.” I still had her arm. “Up we go, sister.”
She came. I took her into the spare room on the same floor as mine, switched on the lights, and put her suitcase on a chair.
I pointed. “Ten-cent bathroom there. Ten-cent bed there. You won’t be needed—”
She sat down on the bed and started to bawl.
I went down to the kitchen and told Fritz, “Lady guest in the south room. She has her own nightie, but would you mind seeing about towels and flowers in her room? I’m busy.”
Chapter 7
Anne slept in my bed that night.
It went like this. When I got back to the office Anne was in my chair with her elbows on the desk and her hands covering her eyes. That was a favorite trick of Johnny’s, putting someone else in my chair. He hadn’t tried putting himself in it again since the day a couple of years back when I found him there looking at my notebook and sort of lost my temper.
Fred Updegraff was on a chair against the wall and Johnny was standing in front of Wolfe’s desk. Evidently Wolfe had made some pointed remarks, for Johnny didn’t look at all cocky.