“I am afraid you have done yourself very little good, Miss Terry,” he said.
“I—I’ll never act again!” she sobbed.
Then, at the psychological moment, when all the world was against her, came Henry Churchill, with a broad shoulder, to soak up her tears.
“As for you, sir, to expose her to such—such brutal treatment,” he exploded over his enveloping arm, “if you were a younger man, I’d—I’d——”
“Why?” said Eliphalet.
“As it is, I shall take her away here and now. Yes, and if you sue us for breach of contract, we shall fight.”
“Don’t fight,” said Eliphalet quietly. “Rather live happily ever afterwards.”
“Go, dear, put on your things, and I’ll get you out of this.”
“Yes, Henry.”
And so anxiously did she obey his instructions that she took off her stage make-up and forgot to put on the one for the street. She even forgot the white fox in her haste to be off.