I am afraid that, in my nature somewhere, there must be a touch of the original savage. It is a painful thing to have to admit, but when one is so full of faults, as I confessedly am, I fancy that one or two, more or less, can hardly make much difference. I only know that, when I saw that person go flying over the back of his own stall, I was obliged to Mr Hammond for having sent him there. More, a good deal more!—I should not have minded if he had sent a good many of the people round us after him, especially—in spite of his age—that barefaced old man on the other side of the vinegary little woman, who, under cover of the excitement which immediately ensued, came to my side, and took my hand in his, and began to look at me in a fashion, and to say things, which made me burn with a desire to throw him into the middle of the band.
Of course there was a disturbance. All the people in the theatre jumped to their feet; the band ceased playing; the performance on the stage stopped also. Shouts and noises came from all parts of the building. Half-a-dozen men came towards us as quickly as the cramped space permitted. Mr Hammond confronted them as coolly as you please; he could keep his presence of mind.
“Only gave the fellow a taste of what he deserves. Chap who behaves like a blackguard to a woman wants drowning. Sorry, though, to have had to make a mess with him in a place like this.”
Attendants seemed to be advancing on us from all sides. Suddenly I found that Basil Carter was standing in front of me. He was white with anxiety, or agitation, or rage, or something. He began to order me about as if I were a child.
“Miss Norah, come up to my box, at once. Mr Hammond, I shall call you to a personal account for this.”
That fired me.
“Account! Why should you call him to account? He has merely marked his sense of an insult which was offered me. Do you consider that he is to blame for that?”
“There is a right and wrong way of doing that sort of thing, Miss Norah, as Mr Hammond knows. Will you be so good as to come up into my box?”
That ridiculous Mr Hammond turned to me—his tenacity of purpose, in his own absurd way, was wonderful.
“Miss Norah, you’ll give me an answer before you go!”