“If you don’t make that woman go away at once, I shall make a public scene!”
Bertha started up and looked at her in astonishment.
Mary, glaring at her, and still talking loudly, allowed Nigel to lead her out of the room.
He then came back.
“I think my wife’s gone mad! Forgive her. She’s ill, or something.”
“I’m going now at once,” said Bertha calmly. “Have a cab called for me, and let Madeline know that the motor will be here for her at half-past twelve. Leave me now—I don’t want anything.”
“For God’s sake forgive me. She’s off her head,” said Nigel incoherently.
At her wish he ran upstairs.
Bertha got her cloak, and telling a friend she met that she was going on to a dance, she got into a taxi and went home.