MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S MADNESS
hands swept them back into the bag, and a cold, sickening fear rendered him almost faint with the sense of trust misplaced, illusions resolved into brutal realities. His fingers closed convulsively about her wrists; but she held passive.
"Ah, but I might have expected that!" came her reproachful whisper. "Take them, then, my—my partner that was." Her tone cut like a knife, and the touch of the canvas bag, as she forced it into his hands, was hateful to him.
"Forgive me" he began.
"But listen!"
For a space he obeyed, the silence at first seeming tremendous; then, faint but distinct, he heard the tinkle and slide of the brazen rings supporting the smoking-room portière.
His hand sought the girl's; she had not moved, and the cool, firm pressure of her fingers steadied him. He thought quickly.
"Quick!" he told her in the least of whispers. "Leave by the window you opened and wait for me by the motor-car."
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