Hardly conscious of what was happening, Gillian allowed herself to be helped into the coat. Suddenly recollection returned.
“But your dance—your dance, Magda? You’ve forgotten!”
Magda shook her head.
“No. It will be all right,” she said soothingly. “Don’t worry, Gillyflower. You’ve forgotten that Davilof is playing here to-night.”
“Antoine?” Gillian stared at her incredulously. “But you can’t ask him to play for you! You’d hate asking him a favour after—after his refusal to accompany you any more.”
Magda smiled at her reassuringly.
“My dear,” she said, and there was an unaffected kindliness in her voice which few people ever heard. “My dear, I’m not going to let a little bit of cheap pride keep you away from Coppertop.”
She bent suddenly and kissed Gillian’s white, miserable face just as Virginie reappeared in the doorway to announce that the car was waiting.
“There, run along. Look, would you like to take Virginie with you?”
“No, no.” Gillian shook her head decidedly. “I shall be quite all right. Oh, Magda!”—impulsively drawing the slender figure close into her arms a moment. “You are good!”