FLINT TO STEEL.
There was a long moment of silence, and then Alan Warburton spoke.
“Much as I desire to hear that sentence completed, Mrs. Warburton, I could do no less than interrupt.”
Leslie dropped Winnie’s hand and rose slowly, moving with a stately grace toward the entrance before which Alan stood. And Winnie, with a wrathful glance at the intruder, flung aside a handful of loose leaves with an impatient motion, and followed her friend.
But Alan, making no effort to conceal his hostile feelings, still stood before the entrance, and again addressed Leslie.
“May I detain you for a moment, Mrs. Warburton?”
Leslie paused before him with a face as haughty as his own, and bowed her assent. Then she drew back and looked at Winnie, who, with a gesture meant to be imperious, commanded Alan to stand aside.
“Will you remain, Miss French?” asked Alan, but moving aside with a courtly bow.
“No; I won’t,” retorted the irate little lady. “I don’t like the change of climate. I’m going up stairs for my furs and a foot-warmer—ugh!”
And casting upon him a final glance of scorn, she dashed aside the curtains, and they heard the door of the library close sharply behind her.