“Annie, stop where you are!”
But for once she took no notice, and she was turning the handle when he sprung forward and stumbled over a footstool. George laughed. William darted across the room to Annie, and, holding the door open, said:
“Go, dear—quick!”
But the power to do so had gone from the frightened woman’s limbs. She hesitated. In that one moment Harry had recovered himself, and, just as William was giving her a gentle little push, her husband reached them, and, seizing Annie’s arm roughly, swung her round into the middle of the room again.
There came a sullen imprecation from the lips of every other man in the room, and William, with a howl of rage, felled his staggering brother like an ox to the ground. Wilfred, sober for the moment, turned to the wife, who had clasped her hands in fright as she saw her husband fall.
“Go, my child, go!” he said earnestly. “He isn’t hurt. For Heaven’s sake, go before he gets up!”
They were all between her and the door now, swearing, fallen husband and the rest. She turned, fled through the conservatory, and out into the garden; she ran, ran—over the steeply-sloping lawn and down into the shrubbery at the bottom, too much scared to stop herself. She fancied she saw a tall, black figure among the trees in front of her, and called “Lilian!”—but there was no answer. Then, having reached the path that ran between the trees all around the garden she leaned against a tree to get back her breath. The next minute she heard a man’s footsteps coming hurriedly down the walk. Her excited fancy told her it was her husband come to wreak his disappointed fury on her; she tried to get behind a tree, but there was a wire fence which stopped her. She crouched down on the ground with her face hidden, until the footsteps came quite close and stopped.
“Don’t, don’t! I can’t bear any more!” she said, hoarsely.
But an arm was put round her very gently, and tried to raise her from the ground.
“My darling, it is not your brutal husband. Don’t you know who it is?”