“Squea-eek, squea-eek, squea-eek” went the leg, as the admirers of the cavalier passed slowly on; while, as they mingled with the throng, a long pent-up breath escaped from Charley Vining’s breast, and apparently greatly relieved, he exclaimed aloud:
“Poor devil!”
“Pray take me out, Charley,” whispered Ella; and for the first time he noticed her pallor.
“Take you out? to be sure!” he cried, as he tenderly drew her hand farther through his arm. “Really, though, for a moment or two, I felt as if I could have wrung his neck.”
“Charley, dear husband!” whispered Ella; for at that moment there was again the sound of the leg, and Charley’s breast began to swell and his eyes to flash.
“All right, little one, take me away,” he said, smiling; “for I feel like a big dog scenting a rat. But there, my own, I’m frightening you; come along.”
He drew her rapidly away towards the entrance, her breath coming more freely at every step; but not so fast but that they caught another glimpse of the lady and gentleman, standing in rapt attention before a fresh picture, and at the same moment heard, in tones that seemed as if they were expressive of profound admiration:
“Bai Jove!”
But that was the last time they ever saw Max Bray.