"And I'm much afraid that we've got to stand for a lot more of gush this afternoon," continued Darrin.
"At the reception? Oh, yes! I wish we could desert the town and get away somewhere to hide."
The affair for the afternoon was a reception for which Laura Bentley had sent out hurried invitations to a lot of the former High School boys and girls of Gridley. Though Laura was more especially interested in the U. S. Military Academy at West Point—because Dick Prescott was there—yet she did not show undue partiality to the Army.
"I'm sorry Laura didn't wait a fortnight," Dan continued.
"Oh, well, she doesn't understand," Dave urged.
"You're going, of course?"
"I surely am. I wouldn't slight that splendid girl. She's a whole lot to me, Danny boy, both for her own sake and Dick Prescott's."
Even the short stroll, however, between Belle Meade's home and Laura's, was bound to bring Dave Darrin again into the unwished-for limelight.
He and Belle had turned into Main Street together, and were walking along, chatting, when Belle's eyes flashed suddenly.
"There's that horrid wretch Ardmore," she murmured in an undertone.