"You let Jim have some money this morning?" she said then; it was a
statement as much as an interrogation.
"Yes," Hollister replied.
"Don't let him have any more," she said bluntly. "You may never get it
back. Why should you supply him with money that you've worked for when
he won't make any effort to get it for himself? You're altogether too
free-handed, Robin."
Hollister stood speechless. She looked at him with a curious
half-amused expectancy. She knew him. No one but Myra had ever called
him that. It had been her pet name for him in the old days. She knew
him. He leaned on his pike pole, waiting for what was to follow. This
revelation was only a preliminary. Something like a dumb fury came
over Hollister. Why did she reveal this knowledge of him? For what
purpose? He felt his secure foundations crumbling.
"So you recognize me?"
"Did you think I wouldn't?" she said slowly. "Did you think your only
distinguishing characteristic was the shape of your face? I've been
sure of it for months."
"Ah," he said. "What are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing.
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