"How can I?" she answered. "I do not know myself."
"Is this by way of being a farewell party?" he persisted.
"I do not know that," she assured him. "The only thing is that if I do decide—to go—well, I shall have had a last glimpse of most of my friends."
"As your nearest male relative, in fact your guardian," Nigel went on, with a touch of his old manner, "I feel myself deeply interested in your present situation. If a little advice from one who is considerably your senior would be acceptable—"
"It wouldn't," Maggie interrupted quietly. "There are just two things in life no girl accepts advice upon—the way she does her hair and the man she means to marry. You see, both are decided by instinct. I shall know before dawn to-morrow what I mean to do, but until then nothing that anybody could say would make any difference. Besides, your mind ought to be full of your own matrimonial affairs. I hear that Naida is talking of going back to Russia next week."
"My own affairs are less complex," Nigel replied. "I am going to ask Naida to marry me—to-night if I have the opportunity."
Maggie made a little grimace.
"There goes my second string!" she exclaimed. "Nigel, you are horribly callous. I have never been in the least sure that I haven't wanted to marry you myself."
Nigel lit a cigarette and pushed the box across to his companion.
"I've frequently felt the same way," he confessed. "The trouble of it is that when the really right person comes along, one hasn't any doubt about it whatever. I should have made you a stodgy husband, Maggie."