"My dear Magda!" he said. "You are not a child any longer. Don't you see that this alters everything—must alter everything? If I had not met Patricia, I might have gone on single for years, perhaps even for life. But—I have met her."
"Oh, I know! Of course, I understand. It's all quite right and sensible, I dare say—only it does just make all the difference to me. You'll never want anybody now except Patricia."
It was Amy Smith over again, but without consciousness of the "green-eyed monster." Magda was seeing things solely from her own point of view.
"Magda, are you an infant still?"
"No," shortly. "Only—I have looked forward—"
"I would not look forward any more in that spirit! I am sorry if my happiness means disappointment to you. Why, I thought you would be delighted—Patricia being your particular friend."
"I'm not."
"Don't make other people uncomfortable, pray, by treating them to a November fog."
Magda was silent.
"Come—be brave and sensible," he urged. "Some friends are expected there to tea this afternoon, and Patricia sent a particular message, hoping that you would come."