As she continued in cooing tones Leila stroked her captive’s cheek and kissed her with a mockery of tenderness. Henderson and Thomas were shouting with laughter; Constance viewed the scene with lofty disdain; Whitford was mildly amused; Bruce, wishing himself somewhere else, withdrew toward the door, prepared to leave at the earliest possible moment. When at last Mrs. Torrence freed herself she sank into a chair and her laughter attained a new pitch of shrillness.
“Leila, you’ll be the death of me!” she gasped when her mirth had spent itself.
“Leila will be the death of all of us,” announced Constance solemnly.
“Oh, I don’t know!” said Leila, straightening her hat composedly at the mantel mirror.
“Too bad Leila’s ‘step-mama’ couldn’t have heard that!” sighed Henderson.
“Now, Leila,” said Constance severely, “do run along home. Please let me take you in my car; you oughtn’t to drive in the condition you’re in.”
The remark was not fortunate. Leila had discovered a box of bonbons and was amusing herself by tossing them into the air and trying to catch them in her mouth. She scored one success in three attempts and curtsied to an imaginary audience.
“My condition!” she said, with fine scorn. “I wish you wouldn’t speak as though I were a common drunk!”
“Anyone can see that you’re not fit to go home. Your father will be furious.”
“Not if I tell him I’ve been with you!” Leila flung back.