Miranda rose and walked to the fire. She stood for a moment looking away from Mrs. Paragon.
"I will tell you the truth," she said at last. "I went out of Peter's life five years ago, and I said I would not return unless he wanted me. He was only a boy. I have put away all thought of him. If I come back to him now, I come as a stranger to be won again. I do not know Peter to-day."
"Peter is still the same."
Miranda was beginning to rebel against the immovable conviction of Peter's mother. Mrs. Paragon was so calm and sure.
"How can I know that?" she exclaimed impatiently.
"You can meet him," answered Mrs. Paragon. She had the air of one suggesting the obvious thing to a child.
Miranda began to be seriously moved. Could she recapture the dead time? She saw herself quaintly perched on the slates of a roof sobbing her heart out, and again in a dark garden with Peter suddenly on his knees to her, kissing the hem of her frock. Perhaps, if she met him, without allowing him time to prepare, the truth would flash out of him.
"Where can I meet him suddenly?" she asked.
Mrs. Paragon quietly accepted her victory.
"I have come to invite you," she said. "You shall see him with Vivette Claire."