[CHAPTER XXIII]
HERSELF OR HER FRIEND?
ONE may be walking on a most ordinary path, plucking flowers by the way, and doing—or not doing—one's everyday duties. And suddenly temptation comes!
But in the meeting of that temptation it makes just all the difference, whether the everyday duties have been faithfully carried out, or have been shirked. In the one case, previous weeks have strengthened one's power to stand firm; in the other case, previous weeks have lessened it.
Going to bed this night seemed to Magda almost impossible. There was so much to think about. Life had assumed a new colouring.
A vague sense had dawned upon her—vague at first, but rendered more definite by Amy Smith's unwise speech—that she had some sort of power over Lancelot Ivor. Power, it might be, to make him like her. He seemed to enjoy her companionship. She had found that she could interest him, could amuse him, could make him for the moment grave at will. And Amy's remark set the seal to her discovery. If others saw the same, then it must be real—then she could not only have fancied it.
The thought was immensely exciting.
Not that she cared markedly for Ivor himself. Magda did not know what real love meant. But he was handsome and much liked; and her vanity was flattered. Hitherto she had counted for little, either in her own home or among Burwood friends. His attention lifted her upon a pedestal of importance.
He had deferred going away for another night or two; and next evening he was to dine with them. She would see him again. She would have another chance to deepen the impression which—perhaps—she had already made.
And—it meant—temptation!