[CHAPTER XIV]
A REVERSION OF THOUGHT
LEAVING her machine in the bicycle-shed, Magda went indoors, to find herself face to face with her father. Up to that moment she had been entirely occupied with her own concerns—dissatisfied with herself, disappointed not to have seen more of Patricia, uncomfortable about Bee—and since leaving the house she had not once remembered Merryl.
The moment her eyes fell upon Mr. Royston she did remember. He was roving restlessly about, between hall and study and drawing-room, as if not knowing what to do with himself. At the sight of Magda, he faced round abruptly.
"So here you are at last! Time enough too! Where have you been all day?"
"I've only been away since lunch. Not all day."
"Pretty sharp you went off too, never stopping to see if you were wanted. Never a thought of your poor little sister, or how she might be!"
There was too much truth in this. She had hurried off, in fear that something might prevent that which she had set her mind on doing.
"Isn't Merryl well, father?"
"Well! Not likely!—treated in such a way! My poor little girl! Sent off in that hair-brained fashion, when she was only fit for bed! In this heat too! I'm not blaming your mother. She didn't know. Merryl took care she shouldn't! But you might have had more sense. Not a soul in the house sees to that child. She never complains—never thinks of herself—the most unselfish little darling that ever lived. And you—always so full of your own affairs, that you neither know nor care what becomes of anybody else!"