"I had a caller, this morning," she said, slowly. "He talked about
you--quite a lot! He's told me several things about you."
"Mr. Vilas?" he asked, with a sting in his quick smile.
"No," she answered coolly. "Much older."
At that he jumped up, stepped quickly close to her, and swept her
with an intense and brilliant scrutiny.
"Pryor, by God!" he cried.
"He knows you pretty well," she said. "So do I now!"
He swung away from her, back to his chair, dropped into it and
began to laugh. "Old Pryor! Doddering old Pryor! Doddering old ass
of a Pryor! So he did! Blood of an angel! what a stew, what a
stew!" He rose again, mirthless. "Well, what did he say?"