She faltered. Then she met his blue eyes full and steadily.
“No,” she said, with fearless directness. “So far as I know, Mr. Barth, I am the only one.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
With masculine obtuseness, Barth regarded it as a matter of pure chance that he found Nancy standing alone in the hall, that night.
“Please go away and take M. St. Jacques with you,” she had begged Brock, as he had left the table. “I must have it out with him sometime, and I’d rather have it over.”
Brock looked at his watch.
“Will an hour be long enough?” he asked.
“I can’t tell. Please bid me good night now,” she urged him.
He smiled reassuringly down into her anxious eyes.
“Don’t take the situation too tragically, Miss Howard,” he said, with a brotherly kindness she was quick to feel as a relief to her strained nerves. “You weren’t to blame in the first place, and I can bear witness that you have been the most loyal friend he has had. If he is a bit unpleasant about it, send him to me, and I’ll knock him down.” He rose; but he lingered long enough to add, “I’ll look in on you, about nine o’clock, and see if I can help pick up the pieces.” And, with a nod of farewell, he was gone.