Page:Restless Earth.djvu/145

Patricia drew her hand away firmly. She looked into the older woman’s eyes, and her gaze was piercing and cold.

“I will help you, Mrs. Langham,” she answered, her words sounding more like a threat than an offer of assistance. “I will forgive you when I am satisfied that your apology is sincere. At the moment, it is not. You are not even remotely repentant. You are merely playing for an invitation to the Warburtons’—as you have been playing for it for years.”

The words created a profound sensation.

There was a moment of dead silence, then somebody applauded. Immediately there followed a wave of sound—cat-calls, laughter, and exclamations of approval, admiration or condemnation. Mr. Warburton ran a finger around his collar and coughed in embarrassment. Mrs. Langham uttered a pitiful shriek and collapsed into her seat with a thud which threatened the whole row of stalls. Mr. Langham, squeezing himself awkwardly between the rows of seats, searched for a bottle which he hoped he could not find, chuckling uncontrollably and fearful that his wife would observe him.

Mr. Warburton spoke to Patricia, who sneered openly at her chosen enemy.

“Isn’t that rather unkind, Miss Weybourn?” he asked gently.

“The truth is seldom kind, Mr. Warburton. Good-night.”

The people in the aisles moved aside respectfully as Patricia made her way to the exit. Most of them approved her sense and her courage.

Mr. Warburton followed her and touched her arm as she was leaving the building.

“Excuse me, Miss Weybourn———.”

Patricia turned so sharply that he was taken aback.

“Well?” she snapped.

“Miss—er—Weybourn, if I might advise you. I—er—I think it rather unwise in you to—er—to