“Cut it out, Cyril! Can’t have a circus here!” exclaimed the bar-tender.
“You needn’t be afraid. They look pretty tame,” Jernyngham rejoined, and going on to the door, shook hands with Prescott.
“Tell Colston he has my last word,” he said.
Turning away, he proceeded to the untidy parlor where he found Ellice dawdling over a paper. Her white summer dress was stained in places and open at the neck, where a button had come off. The short skirt displayed a hole in one stocking and a shoe from which a strap had been torn. Jernyngham leaned on the table regarding her with a curious smile.
“What’s Jack come about?” she asked.
“To say my fastidious relatives want me to go home, which would mean leaving you behind.”
She looked at him searchingly, and then laughed.
“And you won’t go?”
“That’s the message I sent.”
Ellice’s face softened, though there was a hint of indecision in it.