“I—I thought you seemed interested, last night.”
Again Nancy felt Brock’s eyes on her, and she chafed at the false position in which she found herself. It was plain that Brock took it for granted that she had decoyed the unsuspecting Barth into telling over the tale of his experiences; and Nancy, rebelling at the suspicion, was powerless to deny it. She felt a momentary pity for the young Englishman who seemed bent upon offering himself up as a victim to his allied foes, yet she found it impossible to come to his rescue without imperiling her secret.
Suddenly Barth spoke again.
“Were you ever at Sainte Anne-de-Beaupré, Miss Howard?”
There was an instant’s pause, when it seemed to Nancy that Brock must be able to count the throbbing of her pulse. Then she answered quietly,—
“Once, quite a long time ago. However, the whole episode is so unpleasant that I rarely allow myself to think much about it. Mr. Brock, perhaps we’d better go out to the office, if Mr. Barth will excuse us.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Nancy spent the evening in the Valley of Humiliation, Barth spent it in the office with the Lady.
“But what did you say to irritate her?” the Lady asked at length, when Barth, by devious courses, had brought the conversation around to Nancy.
“Oh, nothing. I wouldn’t irritate Miss Howard for any consideration,” he returned eagerly.