'Pull down your veil,' was the lady's sharp response. 'Quick——'
'My——'
'Yes, pull it down, and don't turn round.'
A little dazed by the red-hot torrent the woman on the plinth was still pouring down on the people, Vida's mind at the word 'veil,' so peremptorily uttered, reverted by some trick of association to the Oriental significance of that mark in dress distinctively the woman's.
'Why should I pull down my veil?' she answered abstractedly.
'They're looking this way. Don't turn round. Come, come.'
With a surprising alacrity and skill Mrs. Fox-Moore made her way out of the throng. Vida, following, yet looking back, heard—
'Now, I want you men to give a fair hearing to a woman who——'
'Vida, don't look! Mercifully, they're too much amused to notice us.'