half-nude as the entire front of her dressing gown was ripped open and the torn fragments of the nightgown underneath tangled about her legs.
I clenched my fists and bit my lips. My face was burning hot and my head felt light and dizzy.
As the torn fragments fluttered about her shapely limbs, he lifted her up. She managed to slip from his arms and regained her feet, but as she did so what remained of the garments was stripped upward and for a moment, not only her legs, but her bottom as well was left naked. As she twisted about the light shone full on the patch of little bronze, ringlets of hair at the base of her stomach. Another violent movement and pieces of her torn garments again covered the erotic sight.
She was panting, choked, inarticulate, but as if aware of her half-naked condition she gathered herself for a supreme effort and placing both hands against his chest she shoved with desperate strength. Doubtless, divining what was in his mind, she put every ounce of her failing energies into a superhuman effort to escape the humiliation. She succeeded in pushing him from her. He clutched at her in an effort to regain his balance, tottered uncertainly for a moment, and fell backward. His head struck the edge of the iron grating in front of the fireplace.. His body twisted once or twice, straightened out, and remained motionless.
There was a momentary silence, broken only by a faint, peculiar whistling sound from the lips of the fallen man, a sound which I, and probably both my companions, assumed to be more an indication of drunken stupor than anything more serious.
But the woman standing there panting beside him, looking down into his face, suddenly began to scream. In an instant the servants, who had probably been hovering around close at hand but loathe to interfere, rushed precipitately into the room.
“Call a physician! Call a physician! Call the police! Get these people out of here!” she screamed, repeating the words over and over.
While two servants lifted Monty from the floor to lay him upon a sofa, another scurried to telephone a doctor, and another addressed himself to us.
“I'd advise you to retire as quickly as possible. The Marster appears to be in a very bad condition. He's not responsible under the circumstances, and you'd better be off, seein' as the Mistress is quite 'isterical!”
It was a sober and quiet little procession that filed down the stairs and out into the night air. Monty's faithful chauffeur, aroused by the sudden movement and lights about the house, inquired anxiously:
“What's happened?”
“Oh, Monty staged a row with his wife. He fell down and hit his head on the fireplace grating,” Zippy answered gloomily.
“Is he hurt?”
“I don't think so. Get us away from here as quickly as you can.”
The uneasy chauffeur hesitated a moment but finally decided that the best course was to do as suggested. He put the motor into movement and the car slid off down the quiet street.
As my thoughts cleared I became aware that Carlota was putting on her clothes, and for the first time realized that she had left the house clad in nothing but a silken shift, though she had retained sufficient presence of mind to grab her clothes and bring them with her, which reminded me that my own panties were still decorating a chair back there in the house.
I was not tempted to return for them. The wild emotions of the past half-hour were passing and I felt weak and faint. A fit of trembling seized me and I began to cry.
Carlota turned suddenly on me and I was electrified to hear her hiss:
“Damn you! If it hadn't been for you this would never have happened!”
“What on earth do you mean?” I gasped, hardly able to believe my ears. “What did I have to do with it?”
The only answer was a string of curses and maledictions that left me petrified with astonishment.
Zippy tried in vain to quiet her. She began to shriek.
“Let me out!” she cried hysterically, “let me out!”
Thinking that the excitement and liquor had thrown her into some kind of a fit, I put my arms around her and tried to sooth her. She shoved me away with a violent gesture, and screamed:
“Keep your hands off me, you damned little cocksucker, keep your hands off of me!”
The chauffeur, who of course could hear the clamor, slowed up the car, and opening the glass window at his back, peered in.
“Here! Here! What's going on?” he exclaimed anxiously.
“I want to get out! Let me out!” cried Carlota.
“Certainly, you can get out if you want to!” answered the man with alacrity, and he jumped from his seat to open the door for her.
Carlota literally hurled herself from the car, and sobbing brokenly, ran off and disappeared in the darkness.
“What… what in the world came over her?” I whispered dazedly, turning to Zippy, “What will happen to her, running around in the dark in a drunken fit?”
“Don't worry about her, Jessie. She can take care of herself.”
“But… but why did she say such awful things to me? Why doesn't she like me? I've never offended her or done her any harm!”
“Don't you know, really?” he asked.
“No I don't! Do you?” “Why, she's jealous of you. That's what's the matter with her.”
“Jealous of me?” Why should she be jealous of me?”
“Well, you see, Jessie, she was Monty s girl before he met you.”
“Why! I thought she was your girl!”
“No,” he answered with a resigned gesture. “Monty shoved her off onto me to keep her pacified. I did the best I could, but I wasn't up to it.”
“Oh!” I gasped weakly, “Oh!”
Zippy placed an arm over my shoulder and patted me sympathetically. “Monty is a good scout but he takes some wild chances. We all must have been crazy to let him take us to his house tonight.”
“I didn't want to go; I tried to talk him out of it, but I'm glad now I went. I found out several things I didn't know before. I never want to see him again.”
Unable to control my feelings, I began to cry again.
“Cheer up, kid. Don't let yourself get upset. You have to take things as they come in this life, the bitter with the sweet.
His arm tightened about me and unresisting I let him draw my head over against his shoulder where I continued to sob until I was able to restrain myself. This Zippy was a nice chap. I had always liked him but had never permitted myself to be more than discreetly friendly with him on Carlota's account. There was comfort and consolation in the sympathetic pressure of his arm, and soon I felt better.
“Will you come to see, me sometime?” I murmured. “I'm not going to have anything more to do with Monty.”
“Of course I will, if you want me. I couldn't ask you before because, well, it just isn't cricket to poach on another man's preserves.”
“That's how I felt about Carlota. What a dummy I was! I knew from the way she acted there was something wrong, but I didn't have sense enough to suspect what it was. No wonder she didn't like me!”
The big automobile was rolling along smoothly and quietly and within another twenty-five, minutes or so I would be back in my room.
Dawn was not far off, but it was still dark outside.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
So quickly does the heart respond to kindly words in moments of distress that already a tender feeling for Zippy was taking root. He was really nice and he was good-looking too. I put my feet up under me on the car seat, and cuddled down against him with my head resting on his lap. The soft vibration of the car was soothing to the
