She walked straight past him, so close that her sleeve brushed his.
"Tansy, what's the matter with you?"
He had turned and hurried after her. She was heading for the local cab. He was conscious of a silence, and curious unfriendly glances. It made him angry.
She did not slacken her pace. He grabbed her elbow and pulled her around. He heard a remonstratory murmur behind him, and realized that a couple of the men were closing in.
"Tansy, stop acting this way! Tansy!"
Her face looked frozen. She stared past him without a hint of recognition in her eyes.
That infuriated him. He did not pause to think. Accumulated tensions prodded him into an explosion. He grabbed both elbows and shook her. She still looked past him, completely aloof—a perfect picture of an aristocratic woman enduring brutality. If she had yelled and fought him, the men might not have interfered.
He was jerked back.
"Lay off her!"
"Who do you think you are, anyway?"