He seemed to take the hint that the subject was closed, and after an interval said, “You dance beautifully.”
“You look charming tonight,” he persisted.
She flushed in spite of not wanting him to pay her compliments. She was about to make a pert retort when she reminded herself that he, too, was in the service, even though she disliked him personally. After all she had come here to try to make these men who were serving her country a bit happier. Suddenly she caught sight of Brad watching her with a puzzled expression.
To her relief the band crashed out the finale at that moment, and Brad came to claim her for the next dance.
“So glad you came,” Kitty said cordially.
“No gladder than I am.” He grinned as he looked her over with a sauciness at which no one could take offense. Then he whistled softly.
“Gosh, but you look like a dream walking!”
“You didn’t come here to dance with Lieutenant Cary from now on if I have anything to do with it.”
“Why he dances divinely.” Kitty found herself defending the man she didn’t like just to take Brad down a peg or two.
“Maybe he learned his dance steps where the great Strauss waltzes were born.” Brad glanced around before he added “Vienna.”
“I wanted to talk to you about something, too.”
He took her arm and started toward the rear door. Some steps led down to a court with a fountain in the center and natural palms around it. There were dim lights, and a hostess to make everyone welcome.
Brad found a seat at the far end where the lights were dimmed enough for them to catch a glimpse of the stars. Kitty glanced around to be sure that no one else was within hearing distance.
“Brad, did you notice anything odd yesterday when I introduced Nurse Dawson to Lieutenant Cary?”
“Plenty!” He spoke the word with significance.
“They seemed to have an innate animosity for each other when obviously they had never met before.”
“If you ask me, Kitty, it was a blow to Lieutenant Cary to discover Ensign Dawson on her way to Bernard Hospital.”
“Well, I hardly know how to tell you. It seems so intangible—sort of hunch.”
“It must be a mighty big hunch, for I have the same sort of feeling that something’s wrong somewhere. Miss Dawson looked so sort of burdened.”
“Guess she has enough to make her feel depressed and definitely self-conscious at being sent to this hospital of all places.”