"Like Beryl," said Christina, "and love may excuse everything—like you—he hopes."
Evie sighed patiently.
"Do you know what I think about Ronnie?" asked Christina.
"I'm sure I don't want to know," snapped Evie, roused out of her attitude of martyrdom.
"I think he is a damned villain!—shut up, I'm going to say it. I think he is the very lowest blackguard that walks the earth! He is—"
But Evie had snatched up her coat and fled from the room.
Christina's orders from the osteopath were to go to bed early. She was making extraordinary progress and had walked unassisted down the stairs that very day—she was lying dressed on the bed when Beryl arrived.
"I suppose you'll liken me to the squire's good wife visiting the indigent sick," she said, "but I've brought a basket of things—fruit mostly. Do you mind?"
"I've always wanted to meet Lady Bountiful," said Christina. "I thought she never stepped from the Christmas magazine covers. Did you meet Evie?"
"No, I thought she was out."