“I was looking for you,” he answered readily, “but I thought I saw you with von Valkenberg....”
“He was sent for to go to the telephone,” she pouted prettily, “and had to excuse himself.”
“Let me take his place,” and clasping her hand they joined the dancers. When the music stopped Barnard secured a glass of punch for his partner and himself, and they strolled about, at last going into what Mrs. Walbridge called her “tea-room.”
“Isn’t that Joe and Miss Langdon sitting over there?” questioned Pauline, indicating a deep window recess partly screened from the general view by tall palms.
“Yes.”
“Suppose we join them,” paying no attention to the shortness of his tone. “Joe is so susceptible to pretty women, and Miss Langdon is more than pretty. How does she get on with Mrs. Fordyce?”
“Very well, I believe.”
“Then she must have a remarkable disposition, for I am told that Mrs. Fordyce’s peculiarities make her difficult to live with,” responded Pauline. “A friend of mother’s acted as her companion in San Francisco while Janet was at boarding-school, and she said Mrs. Fordyce’s curious....” she broke off abruptly. “Good evening, Miss Langdon,” sweetly. “I am afraid I shall have to carry off my brother,” slipping her arm inside his as he rose at her approach. Joe’s face darkened, and he raged inwardly. It was like Pauline to spoil his fun and make him appear ridiculous.
“Be satisfied with Mr. Barnard, sister mine,” he said coolly. “I am having a very good time where I am.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Pauline’s voice was venomous under its honey sweetness. “But do think of poor Miss Langdon! There are two débutantes anxious to meet you, dear, so come; Miss Langdon will excuse us.”