"Don't go, Garda," said Margaret. "It's very warm."
"You forget, you two, that I was born here, and like the heat," said Garda, looking for her gloves.
"Surely it cannot be safe for you to go alone," pursued Rosalie. "We are very far from—from everything here."
"It's safe all about Gracias," answered Garda. "And we're not very far from Lucian at least; I shall find him at the end of the path, it goes only there."
It was a simple slip of the tongue; she had talked so constantly of him, and always as "Lucian," to Margaret and Winthrop the winter before, that it was natural for her to use the name. She would never have dreamed of using it merely to vex Mrs. Spenser; to begin with, she would not have taken the trouble for Mrs. Spenser, not even the trouble to vex her.
"I fear Lucian, as you call him, will hardly appreciate your kindness," responded Rosalie, stiffly. "He is fond of sketching by himself; and especially, when he has once begun, he cannot bear to be interrupted."
"I shall not interrupt him," said Garda. "I hardly think he calls me an interruption."
She spoke carelessly; her carelessness about it increased Mrs. Spenser's inward indignation.
"Do you sanction this wild-goose chase, Mrs. Harold?" she said, turning to Margaret, with a stiff little laugh.
"No, no; Garda is not really going, I think," Margaret answered.