“Only when they are provoked,” said Alvina, thinking of Max.
“Yes, but you will not know what provokes him. Who can say when he will be provoked? And then he beats you—”
There seemed to be a gathering triumph in Madame’s bright black eyes. Alvina looked at her, and turned to the door.
“At any rate I know now,” she said, in rather a flat voice.
“And it is true. It is all of it true,” whispered Madame vindictively. Alvina wanted to run from her.
“I must go to the kitchen,” she said. “Shall we go down?”
Alvina did not go into the drawing-room with Madame. She was too much upset, and she had almost a horror of seeing Ciccio at that moment.
Miss Pinnegar, her face stained carmine by the fire, was helping Mrs. Rollings with the dinner.
“Are they both staying, or only one?” she said tartly.
“Both,” said Alvina, busying herself with the gravy, to hide her distress and confusion.