She received into her slack grasp the pistol and dagger, only half aware of taking them. But it was only when that damned scoundrel nearly spitted you in the chapel—’ He broke off and, to her intense satisfaction she saw he was not as much in command of himself as he would have her believe. They came from every part, from the pit, the circle and the gallery, even from the stalls. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. She HAD cried, Ann Veronica knew.
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