The youth, still convulsed, did his best to quiet the paroxysm which had seized him, and at last said, gasping: "I was--I was thinking--of your reciting that at Crosby Ledgers--to my mother--and--and what she would say." Even under her rouge it could be seen that the poetess turned a grey white.
"And pray--what would she say ?" The question was delivered with apparent calm.

But Madame's eyes were dangerous.

Doris stepped forward.

Her uncle stayed her with a gesture.
He himself rose, but Madame fiercely waved him aside.

Miss Wigram, in the distance, had also moved forward--and paused.
"What would she say ?" demanded Madame, again--at the sword's point.
"I--I don't know--" said young Dunstable, helplessly, still shaking.
"I--I think--she'd laugh." And he went off again, hysterically, trying in vain to stop the fit.
Madame bit her lip.