“I don’t wish to go away.”
“Betty, be reasonable,” Dick said, “it’s after ten o’clock. It is not usual for me to receive young ladies alone here, and it looks badly. I don’t care for myself, of course, but for you it looks badly.”
“If it’s only for me—I don’t care how it looks. Come and sit down beside me, and talk to me, Dicky, and I’ll tell you really why I came.”
Dick folded his arms and looked down at her. Betty’s piquant little face, olive tinted, and pure 212 oval in contour, was turned up to him confidently; under the close seal turban the soft brown hair framed the childish face, while the big dark eyes danced with mischief. She patted the couch by her side invitingly.
“I’ll go away in fifteen minutes, Dicky dear. It certainly wouldn’t look well if you put me out immediately, after all your establishment knowing that I waited here an hour for you.”
Dick took out his watch.
“Fifteen minutes, then,” he said. “What’s your trouble, Betty?”
“Well, it’s a long sad story,” she temporized. “Perhaps I had better not begin on it now that our time is so short. You wouldn’t like to hold my hand, would you, Dicky?”
“I’m not going to, at any rate.”
“I thought you’d say that,” she sighed. “Have you seen Nancy lately?”