But Trenor, with a promptness which did not escape her, had moved between herself and the door.
"Why must you go, I should like to know? If Judy'd been here you'd have sat gossiping till all hours—and you can't even give me five minutes! It's always the same story. Last night I couldn't get near you—I went to that damned vulgar party just to see you, and there was everybody talking about you, and asking me if I'd ever seen anything so stunning, and when I tried to come up and say a word, you never took any notice, but just went on laughing and joking with a lot of asses who only wanted to be able to swagger about afterward, and look knowing when you were mentioned."
He paused, flushed by his diatribe, and fixing on her a look in which resentment was the ingredient she least disliked. But she had regained her presence of mind, and stood composedly in the middle of the room, while her slight smile seemed to put an ever increasing distance between herself and Trenor.
Across it she said: "Don't be absurd, Gus. It's past eleven, and I must really ask you to ring for a cab."
He remained immovable, with the lowering forehead she had grown to detest.
"And supposing I won't ring for one—what'll you do then?"
"I shall go upstairs to Judy if you force me to disturb her."
