“Well?” the Lady said again.
“And he does it, without being coaxed,” Nancy responded mutinously. Then she relented. “But he was so pitifully bent on making a fool of himself, just when I had been pleading his cause to the very best of my ability! He babbled at us till I was on the very verge of frenzy. Stop him I could not. He absolutely refused to know when he was snubbed. At last, I fled from the scene and took Mr. Brock with me, and, for all I know to the contrary, the man may be sitting there in the parlor, babbling still.”
Nancy laughed; but the tears were near the surface.
“And then?” the Lady asked gently.
“Then I came up here and bemoaned my sins,” Nancy answered, with utter frankness. “I hate to be hateful; but I lost my head, and couldn’t help it. Now I am sorry, for I truly like Mr. Barth, and I know I scratched him till he felt it clear down through his veneering. He has not only spoiled my whole evening; but, worse than that, I have an apology on my hands, and I really don’t see how I am going to make it, without being too specific.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Thirty-six hours after his banquet, St. Jacques reappeared in the dining-room. Barth eyed him narrowly.
“Back again?” Nancy queried in blithe greeting.
“At last.”
“It was a good while. How are you feeling?”