Claughton had to come first. Upon that point she was resolute. Nothing and nobody might interfere with it. But when she had been, when she had as she hoped seen Patricia, then no doubt it would be wise to go and see Bee. If she did not call soon, who could say whether Bee might not decide to come and see her? So she imagined, though no step was more unlikely on the part of Bee. She grew cold at the thought. What would Pen say?
There seemed to be nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns—by the wrong horn, be it remarked!—to go without further delay to Virginia Villa, and to put things right somehow.
She would have to make Bee and her mother understand the position of affairs. She would have to explain-or to hint—that though she herself would go to see Bee as often as she could spare the time, yet they must not expect to find themselves quite upon the same level, or look to have a welcome from all the circle of the Royston acquaintances. It was too horrid, too disgusting, to have to do anything of the sort. But how could she help it? Nothing else remained? After what had passed at luncheon, how could she ask her mother to call?
Was it really impossible? Even now, would not complete frankness be the wiser, the nobler, the better course? This thought came vividly; but Magda put it aside.
"I can't! I really can't!" she muttered impatiently. "I must wait! I must find out first what I can do with them. After that—perhaps—I suppose I must tell mother!"
And she did not see the cowardice of her decision.
[CHAPTER XIII]
VIRGINIA VILLA
IT was a broiling afternoon, and no mistake. No wonder Merryl had felt the sun too hot! Magda thought of this, and wished, with a touch of self-reproach, that she had gone to see her sister before starting. By the time she reached Claughton Manor, her face was the colour of a peony.
She rang and asked for Patricia. "Was Miss Vincent back yet?"