Part 2 (2/2)
”Barty the Barge-In!” Bess said.
That evening Mr. Drew had dinner with the girls. Nancy noticed that her tall, handsome father seemed a bit preoccupied.
”Isn't your case progressing well, Dad?” she asked.
”Not so far,” he replied. ”I'll probably need your help soon, Nancy.”
”I'll be ready.”
After dinner Mr. Drew told the girls that he must leave the hotel for a few hours.
”We'll manage to amuse ourselves,” Bess said, chuckling.
The hotel orchestra was an excellent one. The girls met many attractive young men who were vacationing at Deer Mountain. Nancy, Bess, and George were never at a loss for partners. Bartescue was persistent and danced with Nancy several times. Though he was an excellent dancer, Nancy did not enjoy being with him.
At the end of one number he firmly steered her toward the terrace. She was annoyed, but told herself, ”This might be a chance to find out more about the man.”
He launched into a story of his adventures in England. But at the first opportunity Nancy led him on to the subject that was uppermost in her mind.
”Obviously golf is one of your main interests, Mr. Bartescue. Do you also have other interests?”
”Oh, yes,” he replied. ”I enjoy tennis-But what are some of yours?”
”Well, for one thing, graphology intrigues me. Some people profess to be able to tell a person's character by means of his handwriting.”
In the semidarkness she did not notice her companion regard her shrewdly as he answered, ”What an interesting story could be built up around mine! The way I write varies with my moods. Today your charm had me so baffled I could hardly sign my name at all. I doubt that I would even recognize it on your scorecard.”
Nancy glanced quickly at the man but his face was a mask. Unexpectedly he began to move closer.
”Nancy, you are very attractive. In all my life, I've never met anyone that I-”
Nancy took a step backward. She did not realize that she had been standing near the edge of the terrace. Suddenly her heels were no longer on solid cement and she felt herself falling. She gave a cry of alarm. Before Bartescue could extend a hand to save her she toppled into a flower bed!
”Oh, I'm sorry,” he said. ”Are you hurt?” he asked anxiously, springing down to a.s.sist her.
Nancy slowly rose from the ground, trying to brush the dirt from her long dress.
”I think I've sprained my hand,” she admitted.
”Shall I call a doctor?” Bartescue asked.
”No, no. I'll be all right. Just leave me here.”
Nancy's outcry had brought several dancers running from the hotel ballroom. The situation was intensely embarra.s.sing to her. She did not wish to explain that her fall from the terrace had been caused by trying to avoid Bartescue's unwelcome attentions.
”Let me see your hand,” Bartescue urged. ”I don't believe the sprain is a bad one.”
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