Another man was speaking in a lower tone, as though he were trying to restrain the first; but his efforts were plainly useless, for the best man had more to say.
"Oh, I can tell you a Queensland crowd is no joke. He'd have been manhandled if he hadn't bolted. Mistaken? Not I! Could anyone mistake a face like that? Go and ask the man himself, if you don't believe me! You'll find he won't deny it!"
"Shall we go?" suggested Tudor brusquely.
Avery made a slight movement, wholly mechanical; but she did not turn her head. Her whole attitude was one of tense listening.
"I think I'll go in any case," said Tudor, after a moment. "That fellow will make an exhibition of himself if someone doesn't interfere."
He went to the door, but before he reached it Avery turned in her chair and spoke.
"He has gone inside for another drink. You had better let him have it."
There was that in her voice that he had never heard before. He stopped short, looking back at her.
"Let him have it!" she reiterated. "Let him soak himself with it! You won't quiet him any other way."
Even as she spoke, that horrible, half-intoxicated laugh came to them, insulting the beauty of the summer afternoon. Avery shivered from head to foot.