To the young girl fresh from school Bart represented
the only thing in the room that was entirely
alive. The others talked platitudes and themselves.
He had encouraged her to talk of HERSELF and of the
things she liked. He had, too, about him an assurance
and dominating personality which, although it
made her a little afraid of him, only added to his
attractiveness.

While she stood wondering how many times the
white-haired young lawyer would tell her it was so
nice to have her back, she felt a slight pressure on
her arm and turned to face Bart.

"You are wanted, please, Miss Lucy; may I offer
you my arm? Excuse me, Bunsby--I'll give her to
you again in a minute."

Lucy slipped her arm into Bart's, and asked simply,
"What for?"

"To finish our talk, of course. Do you suppose
I'm going to let that tow-head monopolize you?" he
answered, pressing her arm closer to his side with
his own.

Lucy laughed and tapped Bart with her fan in
rebuke, and then there followed a bit of coquetry in
which the young girl declared that he was "too mean
for anything, and that she'd never seen anybody so