“Because I wanted to make you a little surprise,” sneered the woman; “a pleasant little surprise. We love each other enough, I hope.” She stamped her foot.
“Go,” said Yvonne, looking half dead.
“Go!” mimicked the other. “But certainly! Only first you must introduce me to these gentlemen who are so kind to you.”
“You will leave the box,” said Gethryn, in a low voice, holding open the door.
The woman turned on him. She was evidently in a prostitute’s tantrum of malicious deviltry. Presently she would begin to lash herself into a wild rage.
“Ah! this is the one!” she sneered, and raising her voice, she called, “Mannie, Mannie, come in here, quick!”
A sidling step approached from the next box, and the face of Mr Emanuel Pick appeared at the door.
“This is the one,” cried the woman, shrilly. “Isn’t he pretty?”
Mr Pick looked insolently at Gethryn and opened his mouth, but he did not say anything, for Rex took him by the throat and kicked him headlong into his own box. Then he locked the door, and taking out the key, returned and presented it to the woman.
“Follow him!” he said, and quietly, but forcibly, urged her toward the lobby.