Maggie turned away, seated herself by her writing bureau, and tried to lose both the past and the present in her beloved Greek.
“She will do it, too,” whispered Nancy as she left the room. “No one ever was made quite like Maggie. She can feel tortures, and yet the next moment she can be in ecstasy. She is so tantalising that at times you are almost brought to believe her own stories about herself. You are almost sure that she has got the black self as well as the white self. But through it all, yes, through it all, you love her. Dear Maggie! Whatever happens, I must always—always love her.”
Nancy was walking slowly down the corridor when a room door was gently opened, and the sweet childish innocent face of Rosalind peeped out.
“Nancy, is that you? Do, for Heaven’s sake, come in and speak to me for a moment.”
“What about, Rosalind? I have only a minute or two to spare. My German lecture is to begin immediately.”
“Oh, what does that signify? You don’t know the awful trouble we’ve got into.”
“You mean about the auction?”
“Yes—yes; so you have heard?”
“Of course I’ve heard. If that is all, Rosalind, I cannot wait to discuss the matter now. I am very sorry for you, of course, but as I said to Maggie, why did you do it?”
“Oh, you’ve been talking to Miss Oliphant? Thank goodness she’ll have to answer for her sins as well as the rest of us.”