out scornfully from under projecting brows, and the wide, thin lips protruded in a fierce pout. Presently, when something annoyed him, he spoke with great brusqueness to the waiter, scarcely moving his lips as he did so.
Connie heard his voice and turned, and their eyes met. Noel heard her draw in her breath sharply, and for a moment she sat staring, motionless. There was not the slightest change in the man's expression, as he stared back at Connie. There was an empty seat at his table, and suddenly he raised a large hand with spade-shaped fingers, and beckoned.
Connie started up from her chair like an automaton, and would have gone to him, but Noel's muscular hand closed on her wrist and fastened it to the table.
"Keep your seat!" he commanded. "Are you a dog to obey that man's whistle? If he wants to talk to you, let him come here."
Then as if ashamed of taking part in such an intense little drama, he dropped her hand and said lightly:
"Who's your friend, Connie? I don't care for his manners."
Connie strove to reach the normal again.
