Madame Bonanni shrugged her large shoulders, glanced furtively at Lushington, and then looked at Margaret.
'It was better,' she said. 'Fruit, Angelo!'
'Can I be of any use to you in getting off, mother?' asked Lushington.
Margaret felt that she had made another mistake, and looked at her plate.
'No, my angel,' said Madame Bonanni, answering her son's question, and eating hothouse grapes; 'you cannot help me in the least, my sweet. I know you would if you could, dear child! But you will come and dine with me quietly at the Carlton on Sunday at half-past eight, just you and I. I promise you that no one shall be there, not even Logotheti—though you do not mind him so much.'
'Not in the least,' Lushington answered, with a smile which Margaret thought a little contemptuous. 'All the same, I would much rather be alone with you.'
'Do you wonder that I love him?' asked Madame Bonanni, turning to Margaret.
'No, I don't wonder in the least,' answered the young girl, with such decision that Lushington looked up suddenly, as if to thank her.
The ordeal was over at last, and the prima donna rose with a yawn of satisfaction.
'I am going to turn you out,' she said. 'You know I cannot live without my nap.'