This pretty event took place on Kate’s side of the ring, and not far from where she sat, below her. Most of the people were on their feet craning to look down over the edge to watch the conclusion of this delightful spectacle.
Kate knew if she saw any more she would go into hysterics. She was getting beside herself.
She looked swiftly at Owen, who looked like a guilty boy spell-bound.
“I’m going!” she said, rising.
“Going!” he cried, in wonder and dismay, his flushed face and his bald flushed forehead a picture, looking up at her.
But she had already turned, and was hurrying away towards the mouth of the exit-tunnel.
Owen came running after her, flustered, and drawn in all directions.
“Really going!” he said in chagrin, as she came to the high, vaulted exit-tunnel.
“I must. I’ve got to get out,” she cried. “Don’t you come.”
“Really!” he echoed, torn all ways.