She protected Collingwood, not George Admaston. Doubtless her action showed her knowledge of the stronger man, her wish to protect the weaker from his attack. But it was certainly most unfortunate.
"Go!" she cried. "Please go!" And then, turning rapidly to Lord Ellerdine, "Dicky, take Alice away."
Lord Ellerdine was trembling exceedingly. He was not trembling from any physical fear. He would have joined in the row with perfect happiness. It would have suited him very well. He knew that he had cut a sorry figure on this occasion—and he was not accustomed to cutting sorry figures. He was not a clever man; nobody knew it better than himself. But he had always considered himself to be an honourable one.
Lady Attwill seemed perfectly composed. Her face did not alter in expression at all, but she caught hold of her friend by the arm and led him out of the room.
The last thing that was heard as the two departed was the plaintive voice of the ex-diplomatist: "I knew it—I knew it."
Admaston waited until the door was closed, and then he turned to Collingwood. "Why don't you go?" he said.
"What are you going to do?" Collingwood asked, facing him.
The two men were white with passion. "What the devil has that got to do with you?" Admaston said.
"A great deal. If you loved your wife as I love her you would understand what it has to do with me."
"I loved her—and trusted her implicitly," Admaston answered, and even in his passion his wife could detect a note of sorrow.