Caddy Buddy books

"
There seemed an obvious retort. Rumbold and Fosdike looked at each
other, and neither made the retort. Instead, Fosdike asked: "Are you
employed in the works here?"
"I was here, on munitions," she said, "and then on doles."
"And now you're on the make," he sneered.
"Oh, I dunno," she said. "All this fuss about Tim Martlow. I ought to
have my bit out of it."
"Deplorable," grieved Sir William. "The crass materialism of it all.
This is so sad. How old are you?"
"Twenty," said Dolly. "Twenty, with a child to keep, and his father's
name up in gold lettering in that hall there. I say somebody ought to
do something."
"I suppose now, Miss----" Fosdike baulked.
"Wainwright, Dolly Wainwright, though it ought to be Martlow."
"I suppose you loved Tim very dearly?"
"I liked him well enough. He was good-looking in his khaki."
"Liked him? I'm sure it was more than that."
"Oh, I dunno. Why?" asked the girl, who said she was the mother of
Martlow's child.
"I am sure," said Fosdike gravely, "you would never do anything to
bring a stain upon his memory.


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