For once in his life Livingston Palmer's face grew as red as a beet.
"You—er—witnessed that unfortunate affair," he stammered. "I—I——"
"I thought you were new at acting," said the lady candidly. "It was, as you say, unfortunate."
"The people used us meanly," exclaimed Palmer. "I was struck in half a dozen places, and my coat was nearly torn from my back, and in the struggle to get away I lost my money and could not find it again."
"When was this? I came away at the conclusion of the second act."
"It was after the play was over. A regular mob congregated around the stage door, and we could scarcely escape with our lives. I never shall go on the stage again, never!" And Palmer shook his head bitterly. He meant what he said, and let it be recorded here that he kept his word.
CHAPTER XXV.
ANOTHER TALK ABOUT ROBERT.