The times-news. [volume] (Hendersonville, N.C.) 1927-current, 1934-08-18
CHAPTER TX

was interrupted by the arrival of
the Beach Club swimming instruc-
tor, Russ Lund. Hatless, looking
by comparison to Hardy's leanness
and trimness rather the Cough
neck" that Patty had dubbed him,
he stood there grinning at hers.
"You forgot something" ~
Boots stared at him. Then she
smiled, He was holding her vanity
case out to her, a frivolous affair
OF fine tortoise shell, flat and thin.
She must have left it in the car
when he drove her home.
ooh, yes. Thanks lot" She
began rather haltingly to make
the necessary introductions. "Mr
Whitmore :. Mr.. Lund. :"
Hardy bowed trace too stiffly
and said they knew each other.
Russ's duck trousers were rather
bedraggled looking. The virile
white sweater, in contrast to
Hardy's beautifully tailored flan-
nels, looked utterly hopeless.
"Well, III be seem you.
Thought you might want the CAD
get. -.
Boots came ouJ of her trance to
thank him again, this time too pro-
fusely, because she felt sorry for
him and hated to see him snubbed.
Who was Hardy - what did he
think he was-to go high hat on
her all of a sudden?
Her momentary sense Of embar-
raSsment fled in the face of Har-
dy's cool arrogance. What if he
did assume, quite without war
rant, that the Beach Club guard
was unduly friendly with her? 1t
was none of his business. If she
were going to be one of Larch-
neck's girl outlaws she might as
well play the role to the limit.
AS RUSS old car, parked few
doors down the street, chugged
spasmodically out of sight she said
coolly, Hes a grand person,
really" with an enthusiasm she
was far from feeling. She knew
little or nothing about the square
ly-built, big-shouldered young man
with the shock of unruly hair, ex-
cept that he obviously admired
her.
A few moments ago she had
been considering the possibilities
of turning Hardy's abject polite
ness to good account. She had
golden opportunity. Why not use
it? But all at once the thought
sickened her. No, she wouldn't cry
on his shoulder and tell him he
was the big, bad man who might
save her from all the village dis
favor. She wouldn't either, adopt
a devil-may-care attitude which
often went over famously with
the boys.
The golden youth beside her
looked at Her in puzzlement. What
had gone wrong with the inter-
view He was accustomed to flut-
tering interest. He would have
sworn this little thing would be
grateful for any crumbs of flat
terry he might toss her way. But
somehow she wasn't playing up.
He felt it had been darned decent
of him to come around in the first
place. Why, he hardly knew the
girl although he had always
thought her flyaway yellow hair
and big brown eyes a delectable
combination. She could be a knock
out, he told himself solemnly, with
the right clothes and more sophis-
ticated makeup. Of course she was
one of the younger crowd. Why,
he was two years older. That made
a lot of difference. She had spirit
though. She threw up her mead
like a young filly and he liked that
husky voice of hers. 1t had a
sirupy undertone in it. You could
do something with this girl.
What did she mean by smiling
that way at old Redneck from the
club? Something ought to be done
about it. He wasn't her class.
Thus Hardy's thoughts. :.
He had been relieved, a few
moments before, when Boots had
assured him he had nothing to do
with any discomfort she might be
suffering at the hands Of the good
ladies he casually dubbed "the vii
lage witches" Every woman over
80 was witch to this arrogent,
handsome young man. But now he
wasn't sure he wanted to have his
kind offer so casually dismissed.
If Isabel was right Boots was gin