There came a knock at the door, but she did not respond. Then the door opened quietly and Penelope entered the room, resolutely, fearlessly. Evelyn turned her eyes upon the intruder and stared for a moment.
“Did you knock?” she asked at last.
“Yes. You did not answer.”
“Was n't that sufficient?”
“Not to-night, Evelyn. I came to have it out with you and Cecil. Where is he?”
“There!”
“Asleep?” with a look of amazement.
“I hope not. I should dislike having to call the servants to carry him to his see. Poor old chap!” She went over and shook him by the shoulder. He sat up and stared at her blankly through his drenched eyes. Then, as if the occasion called for a supreme effort, he tried to rise, ashamed that his sister should have found him in his present condition. “Don't get up, Cecil. Wait a bit and I'll go to your—”
“What have you to say to me, Penelope,” demanded Evelyn, a green light in her eyes.
“It can wait. I prefer to have Cecil—understand,” she said, bitterly.