surroundings through the eyes with which she knew he saw.
Her pride was great, and she was more anxious than she realized that Ben should appear well before Bob. She wanted him to approve of him—in other words, to see him as she saw him, which was through the rosy glow of romance.
As Ben came toward them there flashed through Nan's mind the wish that Ben would eschew the purple scarfs, of which he seemed to have an unlimited supply, and his slight swagger, the result largely of his high-heeled boots, somehow made her uncomfortable.
To the cook's facetious—"Looks like Riley's dude is cuttin' you out, Ben," he had retorted curtly:
"Shut up! You stirred up trouble enough for one night"; but the implication rankled and evidenced itself in the stiffness with which he extended his hand to meet Bob's friendly grasp.
The moment was strained in spite of Nan's best efforts, and her cheeks grew warm under Bob's look of quizzical inquiry at the silent antagonism which Ben's manner displayed.
