"I saw him, I guess, every time he came around.

He couldn't have made a crooked move,--and got away with it.
But I never could figure him out exactly." Jean looked at him, touched by the care of her that he had betrayed in those few words.

Always she had accepted him as the one friend who never failed her, but lately,--since the advent of the motion-picture people, to be exact,--a new note had crept into his friendship; a new meaning into his watching over her.

She had sensed it, but she had never faced it openly.

She pulled her thoughts away from it now.
"Did you know who he was ?" It was like Jean to come straight to the point.