The Wild Fawn by Mary Imlay Taylor

WILLIAM CARTER took his wife to the inn for supper. He had appeared at the door of the Sunday-school hall with a taxi and abruptly bundled Fanchon into it. It was just after her performance on the stage and before the audience began to disperse. In fact, they heard the strains of some very churchy music coming from the orchestra, as if an effort was being made -- delayed but strenuous -- to soothe the startled spectators of Fanchon's amazing dance.

William said nothing. He sat in the dark interior of the taxi with a face as white as paper, and Fanchon, watching him covertly, saw that the hand he laid on the window shook. She leaned back in her corner, twisting a strand of pearls around her throat -- a strand that she had put on after the dance -- and watching him; but she said nothing.