“No,” Tamea replied honestly, “he has not. But—he will.”
“How interesting!” She turned to Dan. “Dan, old boy, since it is your mission in life to make Tamea happy, permit me to give you to her. Here he is, Tamea, you greedy girl.” She chuckled adorably, gave Dan a little shove toward Tamea and crossed to the piano where Mellenger stood, grave and embarrassed. She gave him her hand in friendly fashion.
“Clever, clever woman,” he breathed, for her ear alone.
“How adorably primitive she is, Mr. Mellenger!”
He nodded. “Between the two of us, however,” he answered, still in low voice, “we’ll fix the young lady’s clock.”
The mask fell from Maisie’s face and Mellenger saw in it naught but pain and terror.
And then Julia announced dinner.
CHAPTER XIV
Many arduous and adventurous years in the Fourth Estate had sharpened Mark Mellenger’s native ability to think and act quickly in an emergency. He saw that Tamea’s bold onslaught for the love rights in his friend had disturbed Pritchard greatly; the latter’s face was rosy with an embarrassment that was all the more poignant because nothing that Dan could do or say would relieve the situation; Maisie had apparently exhausted her ammunition and would, unless supported promptly, retire from the field. Weeping, doubtless. Something had to be done, and in this emergency anything would be better than nothing.
Mellenger strolled up to Tamea and offered her his arm to take her in to dinner. But Tamea only smiled at him the tender, tolerant smile which, apparently, she had for all men, and said in a low voice: “Thank you, Monsieur Mellengair, but I will take the arm of Dan Pritchard.”