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That is precisely what you were thinking. Only you funked putting it into plain words." He got up and came to her side and stood looking down at her. "Isn't it a fact?" he insisted. "Isn't it?" Magda looked up, tried to answer in the negative and failed. He had spoken the simple truth and she knew it.
Sometimes his mother laid one spoon too many, and then wiped her eyes with her kerchief, sometimes Magda thoughtlessly called Jendrek by his brother's name or the dog would run round the buildings looking for some one, and then lay down barking, with his head on the ground. But all this happened more and more rarely.
But with Sister Agnetia, Magda was always sensible of the personal venom of a little mind vested with authority beyond its deserts, and she resented her dictation accordingly. And equally accordingly, it seemed to fall always to her lot to work under Sister Agnetia's supervision.
He had simply ceased at once the habit that was all. We never left each other. And his magnificent constitution had perfectly recovered itself in a few months. I had done nothing. 'Magda, he murmured indistinctly, drawing his mouth an inch away from mine, 'why can't your dark hair always be loose over your shoulders like that? It is glorious!
Magda laughed a trifle bitterly. "That would be news to the world at large!" she replied. Then cheerfully: "Now, don't worry, Gillyflower. Remember they've got a doctor there. And 'phone me presently about Coppertop. If he's worse, I'll come home as early as I can get away. Send the car straight back here."
He would remain at the Hermitage until he had finished the portrait upon which he was at work, and then he would pack up and depart. So that when finally he and Magda met in the sun-filled South Parlour at the Hermitage each of them was prepared to treat the other with a cool detachment. But Magda found it difficult to maintain her pose after her first glance at his face.
Then, dimly, as though from a great way off, she heard Antoine's voice again: "I'm glad Quarrington's married. He was the man who saved you in the fog you remember? and I've always been afraid you might get to care for him." Magda was conscious of one thing and one thing only that somewhere, deep down inside her, everything had turned to ice.
At the end of a fortnight Gillian, driven to desperation, despatched a telegram to his Paris address: "Did you receive communication from Lady Arabella?" But it shared the fate of the letter, failing to elicit any reply. She allowed sufficient time to elapse to cover any ordinary delay in transit, then, unknown to Magda, taxied down to the house in Park Lane.
If any single thing could have astonished Magda more than another, it was that Davilof should voluntarily, in the circumstances, renounce the dance she had promised him. It argued a fineness of perception and a generosity for which she would never have given him credit. She felt a little warm rush of gratitude towards him. "No, no!" she cried impulsively, "you shan't give up your dance."
"I shall come back." One more lingering kiss, and then Magda stepped into the open car. Virginie made a rush forward before the door closed and, dropping on to her knees on the footboard, convulsively snatched her adored young mistress's hand between her two old worn ones and covered it with kisses. "Oh, mademoiselle, thy old Virginie will die without thee!" she sobbed brokenly.
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