They invaded Banneker's office
with supplementary telegrams and talked about their hostess with that
freedom which women of the world use before dogs or uniformed officials.
"What a woman!" said the amateur nurse.
"And what a house!" supplemented the other, a faded and lined
middle-aged wife who had just sent a reassuring and very long wire to a
husband in Pittsburgh.
"Very much the chatelaine; grande dame and that sort of thing," pursued
the other. "One might almost think her English."
"No." The other shook her head positively. "Old American. As old and as
good as her name. You wouldn't flatter her by guessing her to be
anything else. I dare say she would consider the average British
aristocrat a little shoddy and loud."
"So they are when they come over here. But what on earth is her type
doing out here, buried with a one-eyed, half-breed manservant?"
"And a concert grand piano. Don't forget that. She tunes it herself,
too. Did you notice the tools? A possible romance. You've quite a nose
for such things, Sue. Couldn't you get anything out of her?"
"It's much too good a nose to put in the crack of a door," retorted the
pretty woman. "I shouldn't care to lay myself open to being snubbed by
her. It might be painful.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53