“Some dance, Miss Bryce. Much obliged. Sorry you have to leave us,” said Wally as the dance was over.
Cartel strolled off down the hall, and a few seconds later she followed him. She saw him saunter into one of the many little rooms used for cards, or tea. She noticed it was not lighted and, on the impulse of the moment, she stepped in after him.
In a second she was caught and lifted in strong arms. She was kissed again and again, while he said laughingly:
“You little devil, you came after all.”
“I wonder who you are,” said Isabelle sweetly, “and who you think I am.”
“Thunder!” said Mr. Cartel, holding her off, and trying to peer at her.
“There must be some mistake,” Isabelle suggested. “I will ask you to stand just where you are, until I have time to get into the elevator. That will save us both any embarrassment.”
“But I don’t understand,” he mumbled. “I do beg your pardon, I thought——”
“Give me three minutes; and I rely on you not to peep into the hall,” she said, with a chuckle. And was gone, leaving the actor-manager more at a loss than such events usually found him.