"Beatrice."
I moved away from Mr. Burke, who was standing very close to me, and went up to her. What to say to her I did not know.
But she spoke first, in the very quiet, very concentrated tone of voice that she always used in the old days when I was "in for a row."
"Beatrice, you will come home with me at once."
It was not so much an order as a stated fact. People who put their wishes in that way are not accustomed to be disobeyed.
My Aunt Anastasia didn't think for one moment that I should disobey her. She imagined that I should at once leave this crowd of extraordinary people, for I saw her glance of utter disapproval sweeping them all! She imagined that I should return with her to the little nouveau-pauvre villa at Putney and listen like a lamb to all she had to say.
Six months ago I should have done this, of course. But now—too much had happened in between. I had seen too many other people, too many aspects of life that was not the tiny stereoscopic view of things as they appear to the Aunt Anastasias of this world.
I realised that I was a woman, and that this other woman, who had dominated me for so long, had no claim upon me now.
I said gently and quietly, but quite firmly: "I am very sorry, Aunt Anastasia, but I can't come just now."
"What do you mean, Beatrice?" this icily. "You don't seem to see that you are singularly fortunate in having a home still open to you," said my aunt. "After the disgrace that you have brought, this morning, upon our family——"