And the girl on the bed had the advantage of
absolute self-control. Somehow that angered Gila more than anything
else.
"Don't you know Paul Courtland?" she demanded, imperiously.
"I never heard the name before!"
Bonnie's voice was steady, and her eyes looked coolly into the other
girl's. The nurse looked at Bonnie and marveled. She knew the name of
Paul Courtland well; she telephoned to that name every day. How was it
that the girl did not know it? She liked this girl and the man who had
brought her here and been so anxious about her. But who on earth was
this huzzy in fur?
Gila looked at Bonnie madly. Her stare said as plainly as words could
have done: "You lie! You _do_ know him!" But Gila's lips said,
scornfully, "Aren't you the poor girl whose kid brother got killed by an
automobile in the street?"
Across Bonnie's stricken face there flashed a spasm of pain and her very
lips grew white.
"I thought so!" sneered Gila, rushing on with her insult. "And yet you
deny that you ever heard Paul Courtland's name! He picked up the kid and
carried it in the house and ran errands for you, but you don't know him!
That's gratitude for you! I told him the working-class were all like
that. I have no doubt he has paid for this very room that you are lying
in!"
"Stop!" cried Bonnie, sitting up, her eyes like two stars, her face
white to the very lips. "You have no right to come here and talk like
that! I cannot understand who could have sent you! Certainly not the
courteous stranger who picked up my little brother.
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