“Would you keep a lady standing on the street?” she exclaimed, with a slight show of resentment. “I cannot say all I have to tell you in a minute.”
“And I have explained that I cannot spare time to talk over anything for more than a few moments. I think you will have to excuse me. Good-day.”
He lifted his hat and started to pass on, but again she placed herself squarely in front of him, to his great annoyance.
“Mr. Merriwell,” she said, “I have seen you on the stage, and I admire you greatly. You will not be rude to one of your admirers, I know. You are far too gallant for that.”
It was plain she sought to cajole him by flattery, and that was the surest way to repulse him.
“Is it possible she is one of those foolish women who fall in love with actors?” Frank asked himself.
Somehow she did not seem like that. There was nothing of the giddy, gushing girl about her. He could not see her face, but her figure was that of a matured woman, and he judged that she must be twenty-five years old, at least. It seemed, too, that there was a purpose in her words and movements.
But Frank resolved on action, for he had found that it was useless to waste words talking to her. He made a quick move to one side and passed her, intending to hasten away.
Barely had he done so when she flung her arms about his neck and screamed loudly!
Frank was astounded by this unexpected move of the veiled woman.