"Take me out of this for the love of God, Squire," she panted.
"Is that young woman Mrs. Vincent?" suddenly cried another voice. "Then, if so, I've something to say to her."
It was Mrs. Everett who had spoken. Hetty had not seen her until this moment. She was walking up the room accompanied by Awdrey's sisters, Ann and Dorothy.
"I can't stay—I won't meet her—take me away, take me away, into the air, Squire," said Hetty. "Oh, I am suffocating," she continued, "the room is rising up as if it would choke me."
"Open that door there to your right, Griffiths," said Awdrey, in a tone which rose above the tumult. "Come, Mrs. Vincent, take my arm."
He drew Hetty's hand into his, and led her out by a side door. The crowd made way for them. In another instant the excited girl found the cool evening air blowing on her hot cheeks.
"I am sorry you found the room too close," began Awdrey.
"Oh, it was not that, sir, not really. Just wait a minute, please, Mr. Robert, until I get my breath. I did not know that she—that she was coming here."
"Who do you mean?" asked Awdrey.
"Mrs. Everett. I can't bear her. It was the sight of her, sudden-like, that took the breath from me."