“He’s waiting in the corner over there,” he said. “We’d better go through the formalaty of an introduction. He’s positively twittering with excitement.”
“Carter,” I said desparately. “I want to tell you somthing first. I’ve got myself in an awful mess. I——”
“Sure you have,” he said. “That’s why I’m here, to help you out. Now you be calm, and there’s no reason why you two can’t have the evening of your young lives. I wish I could fall in Love. It must be bully.”
“Carter——!”
“Got his note, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I——”
“Here we are,” said Carter. “Miss Archibald, I would like to present Mr. Grosvenor.”
Somebody bowed in front of me, and then straightened up and looked down at me. It was the man of the Picture, little mustache and all. My mouth went perfectly dry.
It is all very well to talk about Romance and Love, and all that sort of thing. But I have concluded that amorus experiences are not always agreeable. And I have discovered something else. The moment anybody is crazy about me I begin to hate him. It is curious, but I am like that. I only care as long as they, or he, is far away. And the moment I touched H’s white kid glove, I knew I loathed him.
“Now go to it, you to,” Carter said in cautious tone. “Don’t be conspicuous. That’s all.”