"White and blue are what suit me best; and I mean to make my first appearance in white and silver—a sort of silver sheen, which will sparkle—and my hair down over my shoulders. I've been making a sketch of the style of dress—a kind of medieval flowing robe. Yes—here it is. What do you think? But nothing suits me quite so well as blue; so I shall keep that for the last. I'm not sure about the second act. Something by way of contrast might come in there. I have a notion of pale mauve velvet, with gold trimmings and a long train."
"It will cost a lot," remarked Magda dreamily, her mind still on Ned. Would he come? Would Patricia ask him? "I'm afraid I can't spend much on mine. I shouldn't think Bee could either."
"I've spoken to her, and she is all right. She will run up her own things in no time. And I mean to help with you and Merryl. In fact, I shall give you both your dresses. Yours won't need to be expensive. The general effect has to be pretty; but so long as your colouring harmonises with mine, that is all that matters. For the first scene I thought of some soft material like delaine—either blue or mauve—for you and Miss Major. Then, in the second part, something dark—and in the third, just white. You see, if your frocks are simple, they will throw out mine the more."
Patricia spoke with serene unconsciousness; and this was the note which controlled her talk all through. For herself—the best, the most costly, the most becoming and effective that could be designed! For the rest—anything!
And she did not see it! She had not the faintest idea how this looked in the eyes of another.
Magda's mind wandered, as Patricia flowed on—still about self, all about self, how self was to be adorned, how self was to be admired. A sudden revelation had come to her of the great lack in the character of this girl, whom once she had adored and counted perfect. And with the glimpse into Patricia Vincent came also a glimpse into—Magda Royston. Being with Patricia to-day meant an unexpected vision of herself, seen as in a mirror, whereby she learnt something new as to "the manner of girl" that she was.
Weeks earlier, in a certain talk with Bee, a little previous insight had been given. Then, by way of contrast. Now, through an exaggeration.
Yet, was it exaggeration? Were Patricia's complacent self-absorption, self-admiration, self-preoccupation, really so much greater than her own? Patricia was the prettier, the more fascinating, and her temptations therefore were increased. But Magda too had lived for self.
And how essentially unlovely such a life was!
Another thought broke upon Magda with sudden force. Had Ned seen her as she now saw Patricia?