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She had wired Théo before leaving the de Lenskys', that she was leaving for home, and before starting for the dinner she had sent another wire, addressed simply "Joyselle," to say that she was dining out, but would come to Golden Square after dinner.
Then there would be the children six-years-old Pammy, the De Lenskys' adopted child, and their own little Eliza and Thaddy the latter a delicious, roundabout person of eighteen months, the very feel of whom was comforting. "An empty carriage, if there is one, please," she asked the guard, and he opened a door and helped her into a still unlit compartment.
She had once been called a stormy petrel, and now as, racked with the agony of her resolve, she sat through the interminable dinner, she recalled the name, and smiled bitterly to herself. Yes, she was a stormy petrel, and she had no right to ruin Victor Joyselle and his family. She would break her engagement and go to Italy for the winter. The Lenskys were going, and she would go with them.
She hated being so late in town, but the Lenskys, to whom she had been going, had wired to put her off, as Pammy had come down with measles. And the wire having come only that morning, she had as yet made no other plan for the rest of the month. "Give me some cream, please," she said to the waiter, "without too much boracic acid powder in it."
Her ill-humour, accumulating ever since the receipt of the wire from the Lenskys, seemed about to burst. She looked exceedingly angry, and the poor wretch in the chair before her trembled as he looked at her. "D don't be so hard on me, Bicky." "Don't call me Bicky. And please go. I don't want to be rude, but I shall lose my temper if you don't." Carron's pinched face quivered.
These two people were Pamela Lensky's father and mother, and hither came, early in the November that followed her meeting with Victor Joyselle, Lady Brigit Mead as the guest of the Lenskys. And here she stayed, while the mild, sunny winter days drifted by unmarked, a silent, ungenial guest. The Lenskys were happy people and enjoyed life as it came.
I don't know where. To Italy, probably, with the Lenskys. And I shall, I daresay, marry in the course of time." "Whom are you going to marry?" he cried furiously, forgetting that she had just said that she loved him, and mad with jealousy. She laughed. "Qui sait? I don't. Possibly Lord Pontefract he has just come back from the Andes possibly someone whom you do not know."
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