Capitulation was signalled with a distracted gesture. "Miss Manwaring, do tell me--"
"Nothing--I'll tell you nothing! Give me that key."
"Promise you haven't written--"
"The key!"
It was surrendered. "Well--but that jewel-case: what have you done with it?"
"I've hidden it."
"Where?"
"I'll tell you to-morrow, perhaps."
Opening the door, Sally strode out with her head high and the light of battle in her eyes.
A hesitant, pleading call followed her, but she wouldn't hear it. Pursuit and continuation of the scene, with or without another specious semblance of apology and reconciliation such as had terminated their previous passage-at-arms, was out of the question; the corridor was lively with young women in gayest plumage, fluttering to and from the dressing-rooms, and Sally was among them even before she remembered to reassume her mask.