Swayed to and fro by such opposite considerations, she went down to breakfast; and the first test came soon.
"Would it be of any use to ask Beatrice Major here this evening?" Mrs. Royston inquired of Penrose.
"I don't know, mother. Mrs. Major has been poorly, but I should think she is better now. Magda will know."
Mrs. Royston looked at Magda, and the thin rope of her last night's resolution snapped under the strain.
"I shouldn't think it would be much use. Bee has been nowhere yet."
"You might find out. She knows Mr. Ivor, and I dare say she would like to come, as he goes to-morrow."
Would Bee not like it? Was her mother not well enough by this time? Magda was aware at least that she might be able. But with the thought came a further temptation, as Pen said—
"What has been the matter with Mrs. Major? Not influenza, I suppose? We don't want to get that in the house."
"Something of the sort, I dare say!" Magda replied carelessly.
"Mean! Mean!" cried conscience. She knew she had done it now! Mother and elder daughter exchanged glances, and the subject was dropped. No more chance of an invitation for Bee! And Magda did not want her to come. She did not wish to have Bee as a rival. But how contemptible it was! All her visions of a noble self-forgetfulness had faded into smoke. Everything had given way before her desire to shine. And she knew that she had not spoken the truth. She knew that Mrs. Major was subject to such recurring attacks, though unaware of their exact nature.