of the truth. He had had wide experience with
women. His advantage had always been in the fact that the general run
of them will submit to insult rather than create a scene. This
dark-eyed Judith was distinctly an exception to the rule. Gad! She
might have missed his wrist and jabbed him in the throat. He swore,
and walked off down the street.
Elsa set a pace which Martha, with her wabbling knees, found difficult
to maintain.
"You might have killed him!" she cried breathlessly.
"You can't kill that kind of a snake with a hat-pin; you have to stamp
on its head. But I rather believe it will be some time before Mr.
Craig will again make the mistake of insulting a woman because she
appears to be defenseless." Elsa's chin was in the air. The choking
sensation in her throat began to subside. "The deadly hat-pin; can't
you see the story in the newspapers? Well, I for one am not afraid to
use it. You know and the purser knows what happened on the boat to
Mandalay. He was plausible and affable and good-looking, and the
mistake was mine. I seldom make them. I kept quiet because the boat
was full-up, and as a rule I hate scenes. Men like that know it. If I
had complained, he would have denied his actions, inferred that I was
evil-minded. He would have been shocked at my misinterpreting him.
Heavens, I know the breed! Now, not a single word of this to any one.
Mr. Craig, I fancy, will be the last person to speak of it."
"You had better put the pin back into your hat," suggested Martha.
"Pah! I had forgotten it." Elsa flung the weapon far into the street.
Once they turned into Merchant Street, both felt the tension relax,
Martha would have liked to sit down, even on the curb.
"I despise men," she volunteered.
"I am beginning to believe that few of them are worth a thought. Those
who aren't fools are knaves."
"Are you sure of your judgment in regard to this man Warrington? How
can you tell that he is any different from that man Craig?"
"He is different, that is all. This afternoon he will come to tea. I
shall want you to be with us. Remember, not a word of this disgraceful
affair."
"Ah, Elsa, I am afraid; I am more afraid of Warrington than of a man of
Craig's type."
"And why?"
"It sounds foolish, but I can't explain. I am just afraid of him."
"Bother! You talk like an old maid."
"And I am one, by preference."
"We are always quarreling, Martha; and it doesn't do either
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