a hundred per
cent better than a man like that. Not that he beats Naomi. Fact is, I'd
think he was more human if he did. Only time I ever like him is when he
flies up in a rage. He swears simply _elegantly_!"

"Indeed?"

"I love it. And I don't think it's wicked to love swearing, do you? I was
reading in a book once something about swearing being a perfectly natural
mental reaction, or something--like a safety-valve on a steam-engine. If
the engine didn't have the safety-valve, it would blow up. So if it's
true that swearing is like that, then there can't be any harm in it;
because anything that keeps a person from blowing up must be pretty good,
don't you think?"

"It does sound reasonable."

"Not that I swear myself--not out loud, anyway, but sometimes, when I'm
right peeved at Gerald or Naomi or somebody, I get in my room and say
swear-words right out loud. And I feel ever so much better for it!"

The conversation languished while she again attacked the sundae.
Carroll spoke:

"Have you seen your friend, Miss Gresham, lately?"

"Hazel? I'll say I have--although she's horribly weepy since poor Roland
was killed. Of course, I'm not heartless or anything like that; but
what's the use of crying all the time when there are just as good fish in
the sea as ever were caught? I told her that, but it don't seem to do a
single bit of good. She just keeps saying, 'Poor Roland is dead,' just as
if I didn't know it as well as she does--him having been crazy about me
even before he was about her. I'm sort of afraid it's gone to the poor
girl's head. She's simply _horribly_ upset!"

"That's not unnatural, is it?"

"No-o, I suppose not; but it's terribly old-fashioned."

"Does she--discuss the affair much?"

"All the time."

"What does she think about the woman in the taxicab?"

"You mean the woman who killed him?"

"Yes."

"Well!" positively. "If I was that woman, I'd hate to meet Hazel
Gresham--if Hazel knew it!"

"But she has no suspicion of any certain person?"

"Goodness, no! How could she have? Of course, we agreed that it was some
vampire; but we can't decide which one. Most of the women we know don't
go in for killing men; and a heap of them are married, anyway."

"Anyway?"

"Yes. You wouldn't expect a nice chap like Roland to be eloping with a
_married_ woman, would you? Not in real life?"

Carroll with difficulty concealed a smile. The girl was a refreshing
mixture of world-old wisdom and almost