Then there was a furious scurry back to the theater. Mrs. Winfield kissed her husband good-by and dashed into the stage door to take her scolding. But Mr. Winfield was laughing as he rode away to arrange for their lodging for the remaining two days. Also his wife had made him promise to break the news to Pennock. Her father and mother were traveling now in the mid-West.
If Bret had known Pennock he might not have promised so glibly.
When Pennock finished with Winfield there was nothing further to say in his offense. She told him he was a monstrous brute and Sheila was a little fool to trust him. She declared that he had blighted the happiness of the best girl in the world, and ruined her career just as it was beginning. Then Pennock locked him out and went to packing Sheila’s things. She wept all over the child’s clothes as if Sheila were buried already. Then she took to her bed and cried her pillow soppy.
Sheila, all braced for a tirade from Batterson for her truancy, found that she had not been missed. The carpenters had the scenery spread on the floor of the stage like sails blown over, and the theater was a boiler-factory of noise. Shortly after her appearance Batterson called the company into the lobby for rehearsal. He took up the act at the place where they had stopped in the forenoon—a point at which Eldon caught Sheila’s hands in his and lifted them to his lips.
Now, as Eldon took those two beloved palms in his and bent his gaze on her fingers it fell on Sheila’s shining new wedding-ring. The circlet caught his eye; he studied it with vague surprise.
“A new ring?” he whispered, casually, not realizing its significance.
Sheila blushed so ruddily and snatched her hand away with such guilt that he understood. He groaned, “My God, no!”
“I beg you!” she whispered.
“What’s that?” said Batterson, who had been speaking to Prior.