Lady Edna flushed angrily. She was out-manœuvred, outclassed, beaten on all sides by the thin grey man whom she despised. She had acted like a brainless, immoral schoolgirl.
“Where do you propose to go now?” asked Donnithorpe.
She spat her venom at him. “Anywhere to get out of the sight of you. Yes, I was going alone to Sybil Manning’s cottage. I had just left her when you telephoned. I wanted to get as far away from you as I could and from the disgusting impressions of the last few days. Now the whole thing would be spoiled by this abominable insult. I shall stay with my mother to-night and go down to Moulsford to-morrow.”
“I’m glad,” replied Donnithorpe acidly, “you’re not thinking of returning to my house. I’m not going to have any plea of condonation.”
Lady Edna moved away haughtily toward the barriers.
“I see my porter. Mr. Baltazar, will you kindly put me into a taxi?”
“No, he shan’t. You shall go in my car.”
Baltazar, in a cold fury, stood over him threateningly.
“You stay here,” said he, “or by the living God I’ll half kill you!”
He caught up Lady Edna and followed with her in the wake of the porter.