"Now you are disagreeable," cried Phyllis, in a high voice; "and ungrateful, too, after all those long sittings."
"Not ungrateful. Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Under cover of the crowd he had taken both her hands, and was pressing them fiercely at each repetition, while his miserable eyes looked imploringly into hers.
"You are hurting me." Her voice was low and broken. She shrank back afraid.
"Good-bye—Phyllis."
Gertrude, coming back from the refreshment-room a minute later, found Phyllis standing by herself, in an angle formed by one of the screens, pale to the lips, with brilliant, meaningless eyes.
"We are going home," said Gertrude, walking up to her.
"Oh, very well," she answered, rousing herself; "the sooner the better. I am not well." She put her hand to her side. "I had that pain again that I used to have."
Lord Watergate, who stood a little apart, watching her, came forward and gave her his arm, and they all three went from the room.
In the cab Phyllis recovered something of her wonted vivacity.