to himself; maudlin. Yet it had been a particularly unpleasant, lonely week for Gregg, so here, with Bill's arm about him, he had deliberately to check himself from thinking about Bill; which he did by remembering Marjorie. And, at the same moment, Bill remembered her and drew away his arm.
"Oh, what're we talking about money for, when Marjorie's gone and no one knows where she is!"
"Yes; some one knows," Gregg said to him. Partly the admission was the result of his feeling for Bill, he realized instantly; but not entirely that; for he had decided with himself a few days ago that, unless some word came from Marjorie, soon Bill must know all that he did.
"What?" Bill grabbed him with both hands. "What did you say?"
"Rinderfeld knows, Bill," Gregg said, deciding to give it him all at once. "He's had her address since the first."
"Rinderfeld? How?—Where is she, Gregg?"
"I don't know."
But Billy gripped him only harder and accused. "You knew where she is and you could sit here and talk to me"
Gregg stopped him. "I don't know where she is or anything about her but that Rinderfeld, I am sure, has her address."
"Oh!" Billy gasped in his confusion. "He's found her, has he?"
"Marjorie left her address with Rinderfeld when she went away," Gregg informed directly.
"What? When did you find that out?"
"I've known it all along," Gregg confessed. "Ever since she went away. In fact, she told me the last
