Potter sent him a vicious glance, but continued: "I had hopes of
her intelligence--as an actress. She seemed to have, also, a
fairly attractive personality. I felt some little--ah, interest
in her, personally. There is something about her that--" Again
he paused. "I talked to her--about her part--at length; and
finally I--ah--said I should be glad to walk home with her, as
it was after dark. She said no, she wouldn't let me take so
much trouble, because she lived almost at the other end of
Brooklyn. It seemed to me that--ah, she is very young--you both
probably noticed that--so I said I would--that is, I offered to
drive her home in a taxicab. She thanked me, but said she
couldn't. She kept saying that she was sorry, but she couldn't.
It seemed very peculiar, and, in fact, I insisted. I asked her
if she objected to me as an escort, and she said, 'Oh, no!' and
got more and more embarrassed. I wanted to know what was the
matter and why she couldn't seem to like--that is, I talked very
kindly to her, very kindly indeed. Nobody could have been
kinder!" He cleared his throat loudly and firmly, with an angry
look at Tinker. "I say nobody could have been kinder to an
obscure member of the company that I was to Miss Malone. But I
was decided. That's all. That's all there was to it. I was
merely kind. That's all." He waved his hand as in dismissal of
the subject.

"All?" repeated Canby. "All? You haven't--"

"Oh, yes." Potter seemed surprised at his own omission. "Oh,
yes. Right in the midst of--of what I was saying--she blurted
out that she couldn't let me take her home, because 'Lancelot'