"Lady Bazelhurst, you--you--" and then he collapsed into the chair,
bursting into maudlin tears. She stood over by the dressing-table and
looked pitilessly upon the weak creature whose hiccoughing sobs filled
the room. Her color was high, her breathing heavy. In some way it
seemed as though there was so much more she could have said had the
circumstances been different.
There came a knock at the door, but she did not respond. Then the door
opened quietly and Penelope entered the room, resolutely, fearlessly.
Evelyn turned her eyes upon the intruder and stared for a moment.
"Did you knock?" she asked at last.
"Yes. You did not answer."
"Wasn't that sufficient?"
"Not to-night, Evelyn. I came to have it out with you and Cecil. Where
is he?"
"There!"
"Asleep?" with a look of amazement.
"I hope not. I should dislike having to call the servants to carry him
to his room."
"I see. Poor old chap!" She went over and shook him by the shoulder.
He sat up and stared at her blankly through his drenched eyes. Then,
as if the occasion called for a supreme effort, he tried to rise,
ashamed that his sister should have found him in his present
condition. "Don't get up, Cecil. Wait a bit and I'll go to your room
with you."
"What have you to say to me, Penelope?" demanded Evelyn, a green light
in her eyes.
"I can wait. I prefer to have Cecil--understand," she said, bitterly.
"If it's about our affair with Shaw, it won't make any difference
whether Cecil understands or not.
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