It maddened her to have to make plans. Where should she go? How like that little wretch Pammy to go and have measles now.
She would go to Golden Square as soon as it got a little cooler and make Victor play to her. They might go for a drive later. Or she might make Théo take her for a walk in the park. Suddenly she heard a slight scratching noise in the entry, and rose. The porter, to save himself trouble, was letting some visitor in unannounced. She would murder that porter.
But when she saw the visitor she forgot the guilty official.
"Gerald!"
"Yes, Brigit. Do—do you mind?"
"I—yes, I mind, of course I do. Why have you come?"
Carron, who was very smartly dressed and who looked wretchedly ill, sank into a chair.
"It is nearly four months ago," he murmured. "I—I hoped you would have forgiven me."
"Well, I haven't. So please go."
Her ill-humour, accumulating ever since the receipt of the wire from the Lenskys, seemed about to burst. She looked exceedingly angry, and the poor wretch in the chair before her trembled as he looked at her.