"
"Your _rank_? Indeed, you're quite right. It _is_ rank. Foh!"
The handsome face was expressive of contemptuous abhorrence and her
gesture emphasised the expression. Lady Anastasia was goaded to fury.
"Why, you impudent, brazen-faced Drury Lane trull! A month at Bridewell
would do you good, you----"
Her ladyship's vocabulary of abuse was pretty extensive but it was cut
short. A dice box with the ivories inside flew across the table hurled
with the full strength of a vigorous shapely arm. This was Sally
Salisbury's retort. A corner of a dice cut the lady's lip and a drop of
blood trickled on to her chin.
Beyond herself with rage, Lady Anastasia seized a wine glass--a somewhat
dangerous projectile, for the wine glasses of the time were large and
thick and heavy--and would have dashed it at her antagonist but one of
the players, a man, grasped her wrist and held it.
"Let her ladyship have her chance. She's entitled to it. A duel at a
masquerade between two women of fashion! Why, it'll be the talk of the
town for a whole week," and Sally Salisbury laughed derisively.
But so vulgar a _fracas_ was not to the taste of Lady Anastasia's
friends, besides which the attendants were alarmed and ran to prevent
further disturbance. They abstained, however, from interfering with
Sally Salisbury. Her ungovernable temper and her fear of nothing were
well known. If she once let herself go there was no telling where she
would stop.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182