"Gerald?"

"That's Mr. Lawrence. He's my brother-in-law--Sis's husband.
Insufferably old-timy. Don't think of anything but business. Used to look
at me through his horn-rimmed glasses and say I was entirely too young to
be receiving attentions from a man as old as Mr. Warren; but he didn't
know. I'm not young, really, you know. Of course, I'm not twenty yet, but
a girl can be under twenty and yet be a woman, can't she?"

"Yes"--dryly--"especially after she learns to concentrate."

"And as intimately as I knew Roland--that's Mr. Warren, you know--of
course I didn't call him Roland to his face. Not that he didn't want me
to, but then Sis and Gerald would have disapproved--old frumps! Knowing
him so intimately, and really believing that he was in love with
me--although, of course, the minute he became engaged to Hazel Gresham I
didn't even flirt with him any more--not the least little tiny harmless
bit well, I find it excruciatingly hard to believe that he is dead!"

"He is--quite. We're trying to discover who killed him."

"I know it. That's what I came to see you about."

"So you did. I'd quite forgotten--"

"You ought to learn to concentrate, Mr. Carroll. It's really
ridiculously easy after you've studied it a little bit. Now if I had been
you, and you had been I--me--I never would have forgotten what you came
to see me about. Of course, I know you didn't forget, really; but the
chances are that you were interested talking, and absolutely failed to