“Well, where have you been, Dorothy Dale?” asked her chum, with asperity. “It seems that every time I turn my back you take that chance to run off and do something exciting.”
“There was nothing exciting about my excursion this afternoon,” sighed Dorothy. “I spent a lot of time and trouble and found out—nothing, absolutely nothing.”
“Poor Doro,” sympathized Tavia, her manner suddenly changing to a more gentle one. “You do look done up. Let’s have some tea and you can tell me all about it.”
“I should go and fix up a little,” protested Dorothy. “I must look a fright.”
“You look as sweet as the proverbial summer rose,” Tavia reassured her. “Besides, I refuse to be cheated out of my tea. My gracious!” she exclaimed, stopping suddenly before one of the huge pillars in the lounge. “Look who’s here!”
On her face was a peculiar expression and Dorothy followed with interest the direction of her gaze. Then she stiffened suddenly and her eyes began to blaze.
Stanley Blake and Gibbons were crossing the lobby, and they were coming directly toward the two girls.
“I don’t believe they have seen us,” whispered Tavia, who, for once, could see the wisdom of running away. “Can’t we slip off toward the elevators?”
“No, stay where you are!” Dorothy’s hand closed nervously on her arm. “They have seen us. And—listen Tavia—we must try to be nice to them.”
If her chum had gone suddenly mad Tavia could not have looked any more startled. As a matter of fact, she feared for the moment that such was indeed the case.