'Not in the least,' Lushington answered, with a smile which Margaret thought a little contemptuous. 'All the same, I would much rather be alone with you.'
'Do you wonder that I love him?' asked Madame Bonanni, turning to Margaret.
'No, I don't wonder in the least,' answered the young girl, with such decision that Lushington looked up suddenly, as if to thank her.
The ordeal was over at last, and the prima donna rose with a yawn of satisfaction.
'I am going to turn you out,' she said. 'You know I cannot live without my nap.'
She kissed Margaret first, and then her son, each on both cheeks, but it was clear that she could hardly keep her eyes open, and she left Margaret and Lushington standing together, exactly as she had left the young girl with Logotheti on the first occasion.
Their eyes met for an instant and then Lushington got his hat and stick and opened the door for Margaret to go out.
'No, thank you. I'll walk a little way first, and then drive to the station.'
When they were in the street, Lushington stood still.
'You believe that it was an accident, don't you?' he asked. 'I mean my coming to-day.'
He could not refuse, and he felt that he was not standing by his resolution; yet the circumstances were changed, since she now knew his secret, and was warned.
They had gone twenty steps before she spoke.
'I should think you would understand why I did not tell you,' he answered rather bitterly.
She opened her parasol so impatiently that it made an ominous little noise as if it were cracking.
'I do understand,' she said, almost harshly, as she held it up against the sun.
'And yet you complain because I did not tell you,' said Lushington in a puzzled tone.
'It's you who don't understand!' Margaret retorted.
They went on a little way in silence, walking rather slowly. She was angry with herself for being irritated by him, just when she admired him more than ever before, and perhaps loved him better; though love has nothing to do with admiration except to kindle it sometimes, just when it is least deserved. Now it takes generous people longer to recover from a fit of anger against themselves than against their neighbours, and in a few moments Margaret began to feel very unhappy, though all her original irritation against Lushington had subsided. She now wished, in her contrition, that he would say something disagreeable; but he did not. He merely changed the subject, speaking quite naturally.