For a few moments the conversation was resumed, but the atmosphere seemed chilled. Then the Doctor rose to say good-night, explaining that he had promised to call on a patient in Curzon Street before going home. This seemed to be the signal for the breaking-up, and all of the guests left at the same moment, Mrs. Tate calling out to Blanche at the door of the drawing-room that she would look in on her the next day if she were not too busy.
When the front door had closed, Tate turned to his wife.
"Well, you had a stormy time of it, didn't you?"
She walked toward the centre of the drawing-room and stood under the chandelier, keeping her eyes fixed on her husband's face, which seemed to be much more serious than usual.
"What makes you think so?" she asked, removing a bracelet from her arm and nervously twirling it.
"I could tell from the expression in his eyes, and from the way you and the Doctor acted. He was furious, wasn't he?"
"Furious? Le Baron? Hardly; though I could see he didn't believe a word we said. He was almost too startled to understand it at first. The little goose hadn't said a word to him about it."
"And what did he say when you told him she ought to give up her performance? How did he like that?"
"He didn't like it at all, apparently. But I didn't expect him to like it. It means money out of his pocket."
"No, it means more than that, if I'm not mistaken."