Polly and Lucy were singing their duet "Would I might be hanged," and both cast indignant looks at the side of the pit whence the interruption came.

But they could only hear, not see, so dimly was the theatre lighted.
Meanwhile Vane had sprung to his feet.
"You lie you ruffian," he shouted and his hand went to his sword.
The people in the front and back benches rose; the women screamed; one of the theatre attendants who chanced to be near seized Rofflash who struggled violently and swore loudly.

Some of the audience came to the attendant's assistance and the fellow was flung out.

The uproar soon subsided--it had not lasted more than a couple of minutes, the music went on and Polly thought no more about it.

She had not the slightest idea that the chief actors in it so nearly concerned herself.
The sequel to the discomposing interruption was totally unpremeditated.
Polly was the "toast of the town," the idol of the sparks of fashion.
Their applause was uproarious when she and Lucy recommenced the duet, but this sympathetic encouragement was not enough for the more ardent spirits.