But, in deference to Mrs. Fontaine and Emma Fornez, the protest was not so boisterous or accompanied by such rushing tactics as had greeted others. Nevertheless they were fined and escorted to one of the dressing-rooms. The men were forced to don dusters and white top-hats, and the women were given sombreros and mantillas.
Mme. Fornez, despite the frowns of Holliday, clung to Beecher's arm, insisting on being personally conducted, plying him with innumerable questions.
"Oh what a terrible man! What an awful knife. I like the black men—sont ils rigolots—with their red and white collars. I want to see the bar-man toss drinks—so, in the air, Teddy. Come this way."
All at once she stopped, and, facing about, took him by the lapels of the coat.
"It does not annoy you that I adopt you—that I call you Teddy?" she said, with a simulation of timidity and a sudden concentration of her swimming black eyes.
"Emma," he said, laughing, "if you stop there I shall die of disappointment."
She frowned a little at the "Emma," but yielded the point.
"You are not very responsive, Monsieur Beecher," she said, with a flash, "when I am so nice to you."
"My dear Emma," said Beecher, who, not being in love, could see clearly, "if I don't fall at your feet, it's because I know very well that the moment I did you would bulldoze me like Bob Holliday."
Emma Fornez looked at him with a sudden gay approval.