“Aren’t you the limit, you two? I’ve had Bud searching the whole place for you and here you are! Quite as though you hadn’t been hiding for the last hour.”
“I’m going to keep Mr. Storrs just a moment longer,” said Millicent. “Leila said her father was perishing somewhere and I want Mr. Storrs to meet him.”
“Yes; certainly,” said Bruce.
He walked beside her into the big lounge, where many of the older guests were gathered.
“Poor Mr. Mills!” said Millicent after a quick survey of the room. “There he is, listening to one of Mr. Tasker’s interminable yarns.”
She led the way toward a group of men, one of whom was evidently nearing the end of a long story. One of his auditors, a dark man of medium height and rather stockily built, was listening with an air of forced attention. His grayish hair was brushed smoothly away from a broad forehead, his neatly trimmed mustache was a trifle grayer than his hair. Millicent and Bruce fell within the line of his vision, and his face brightened instantly as he nodded to the girl and waved his hand. The moment the story was ended he crossed to them, his eyes bright with pleasure and a smile on his face.
“I call it a base desertion!” he exclaimed. “Leila brings me here and coolly parks me. A father gets mighty little consideration these days!”
“Don’t scold! Mr. Mills—let me present Mr. Storrs.”
“I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Storrs,” said Mills with quiet cordiality. He swept Bruce with a quick, comprehensive scrutiny.
“Mr. Storrs has lately moved here,” Millicent explained.