"Yes. And then you can come for her."
"Thanks—a thousand times. You are a friend worth having."
He sped away; and Magda sat down, gazing into the blue distance with eyes that saw little. It was hard! But the calm overshadowed her still; and she knew that in this fight at least she had come off victor; not in her own strength.
She found herself facing steadily the fact that, for the present, her life was clearly marked out. She would be the one efficient home-daughter. Her parents in their advancing years would depend mainly upon her for cheer and sunshine. The quiet daily round would be her portion. And if she were called to this—if this were the Will of her Master!—What mattered its insignificance, its dulness, or even her own loneliness?
"I've got to be brave about it—that's all!" she murmured. "I've just got to do it; and to do it well! Nothing grand about it. A plain little square of weaving! Sort of ground-work to the pattern, perhaps," and she laughed softly. "Not pretty, but useful. Well, I've had other chances, and I've missed them. I'll try hard now, with this. Life is worth living; when one sees what it means!"
Sooner than she would have thought possible, Merryl came in, looking puzzled.
"You want me!" she said.
"Come and sit down here. I've something to say. Merryl, what makes you run away from Ned as you do? Especially the moment I turn up!"
Merryl flushed and seemed embarrassed. "Has he told you—about this afternoon?"
"What happened?"