“I don’t think you are,” retorted Gillian. “But it’s your ‘usual’ that’s so disastrous. You go sailing through life like a beautiful cold star—perfectly impassive and heartless.”
“I’m not heartless. I love you—and Marraine. You surely don’t blame me because I don’t ‘fall in love’? . . . I don’t want to fall in love,” she added with sudden vehemence.
“I wish to goodness you would!” exclaimed Gillian impatiently. “If only you cared enough about anybody to do something really outrageous—run off with another woman’s husband, even—I believe I should respect you more than I do now.”
Magda laughed.
“Gillyflower, I’m afraid you’ve no morals. And you here in the capacity of watchdog and duenna, too!”
“It’s all very well to make a joke of everything. But I know—I’m sure this business about Kit Raynham is going to be more serious than you think. It’s bound to affect you.”
Magda stared at her blankly.
“What nonsense! Affect me—why should it? How can it?”
“How can it?”—with bitterness. “Everyone will talk—more than usual! You can’t smash up people’s only sons—not lovable, popular boys like Kit—without there being a fuss. You—you should have left a kid like that alone.”
And she went out of the room, banging the door behind her like a big full-stop.