Always a popular partner, Patty was fairly besieged that night.
“I can’t,” she said laughingly, as the young men gathered around to beg her favours; “I’ve halved every dance already; I can’t do more than that.”
“Don’t halve this one,” said Tom Meredith, as he led her away for a waltz. “I must have all of it. Unless you’ll sit it out with me on the terrace.”
“No, thank you,” said Patty. “I’d rather dance. I don’t suppose I’ll find another dancer as good as you all summer.”
“I hate to think of your going away,” said Tom. “You almost promised me you’d stay here all summer.”
“I know. But I’m not mistress of my own plans. They’re made for me.”
“And you’re glad of it,” said Tom, almost angrily. “You’re glad you’re going away from here—to go motoring in Switzerland, and all sorts of things.”
“Don’t be so savage. It isn’t surprising that I’m glad to go away from any one as cross as you are.”
Tom had to smile in return for Patty’s laughing tones, and he said more gently:
“I don’t mean to be bearish, but I wish you weren’t going. I—I like you an awful lot, Patty. Truly I do.”