"Yes, Mr. Druce."
"'Caush it's this way: if she's got nothin' on me, I'm all right, 'nd I got somethin' on her. Believe me, Jim, I got good 'nd plenty on her t'night. She's here with man I know and don' like, man I got no ush for at all—shee?—no ush whatever. Ain't that limit, jush like woman? Insist you gotta walk chalk-mark, but minute your back'sh turned, what they do? Go off on private lil parties all their own, that'sh sort of thing they do!..."
Panting and sick with mortification, Lucinda turned from the sound of that babbling voice of a fool—and heard her own name pronounced.
"The car is here, Mrs. Druce."
In a wild stare she identified the face of her chauffeur, saw that he understood the situation and was anxious to be helpful.
"Wait," she quavered.
And then by a miracle of will-power she managed to master her nerves and, putting aside her horror and humiliation, took thought quickly and clearly.
"All I wan' you to do ish remember, if Mishish Druce asks if you've seen me, you never heard of me, don' know me 'tall—shee, Jim, shee what I mean?"
As Lucinda drew near the porter must have guessed who she was, for he spoke to Bellamy in a low voice, and the latter swung round with startled eyes and a dropping jaw. She closed her fingers on his wrist and put all her strength into their grasp.
"Come, Bel," she said clearly and not unkindly. "Please don't keep me waiting. The car is here, we're going home."