“Won’t you introduce me to—ah—your friend, Miss Varley?”
Mabel, recalled to her duty as hostess, had no option but to comply.
“This is Mr. Beckworth Fleming, Joe,” she said. “Mr. Fleming, this is Mr. Matson.”
The two men bowed coldly but neither extended a hand.
“Mr. Fleming is a friend of Reggie’s,” Mabel explained to Joe.
“And of yours also, I hope, Miss Varley,” said Fleming with an ingratiating smile.
“I said a friend of Reggie’s,” returned Mabel, coldly.
It was a direct cut, and Fleming felt it as he would have felt the lash of a whip. He turned a dull red and was about to reply, when he caught the menacing look in Joe’s eyes and stopped. He muttered something about a pressing engagement, took up his hat and cane, and with a pretence of haughtiness that failed dismally of its effect, swaggered from the room.