Figg?" asked Gay. Ruth crossed over to the dramatist of this tragicomedy and put a hand on his shoulder. Be so good as to let me pass, sir,” she added, looking her obstructor steadily in the face. He lit a cigarette and loitered about. Again silence. To be near someone, even someone who made a pretense of friendliness, to hear voices, her own intermingling, would serve as a rehabilitating tonic. ’ ‘Ain’t it? Want me to give you some time with her? Not that I think she’ll tell you anything. There was none. He gets his brains from Carolyn. Will you answer me a question first?” “If I can,” Ennison said.
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