"No one would believe it was all pure accident."
"Perhaps it isn't," said Miss Penny oracularly.
"Why, what do you mean?" said Margaret, bristling in her turn.
"Oh, I'm imputing no guile, my child. I'm miles away up past that kind of thing. What I mean is this—perhaps it was meant to be, and you couldn't help yourselves. Now if that should be the case, it would be flying in the face of Providence to go and upset it all. What are your feelings towards him?"
"Feelings? I have no feelings—"
"Oh yes, you have, my child. You're not made of marble, though you can look it when you try. Why, I have myself. I like him—the little I've seen of him—and in spite of the fact that he caught me doing my hair, which is enough to turn anyone against anyone. I shall probably like him still more the better I get to know him. What have you against him?"
"I've nothing whatever against him. I—"
"Then, my dear, we'll sit tight. If anyone should go it's he, since he's been here a month, and we've only been one day. But if he goes it will only be because you make him. You've no ill-will towards him?"
"I've no feeling at all about him, except that it's awkward his being here."
"Then we'll just put the blame on Providence, and sit tight, as I said before. I'll see you come to no harm, my child. I could make that young man, or any young man, fly to the other end of the island by simply looking at him."