Monte Carlo," said Nance, with a smile.
"Let me by. I've got to go home."
"I'll go with you. Where do you live?"
"Under my hat."
"Well, I don't know a nicer place to be." Monte laughed and looked at
her and kept on laughing, until she felt herself blushing up to the
roots of her hair.
"Honest, Mr. Monte, I got to go on," she said appealingly. "I'm in no
end of a hurry."
"I can go as fast as you can," said Monte, his cane tapping each step as
he tripped briskly down beside her. "I've got my orders from Mac. I'm to
stay with you, if you won't stay with me. Which way?"
In consternation for fear the congregation should be dismissed before she
could get away, and determined not to let him know where she lived, she
jumped aboard a passing car.
"So be it!" said her plump companion, settling himself comfortably on the
back seat beside her. "Now tell your Uncle Monte all about it!"
"There's nothing to tell!" declared Nance, with the blush coming back.
She was finding it distinctly agreeable to be out alone like this with a
grandly sophisticated young gentleman who wore a light linen suit with
shoes to match, and whose sole interest seemed to center upon her and
her affairs.
"But you know there is!" he persisted. "What made you give us the shake
that night of the ball?"
Nance refused to say; so he changed the subject.
"How's Miss Birdie?"
"Give it up. Haven't seen her since you have."
"What? Didn't you go on with the show that next morning?"
"No.
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