Lady Maisie (alone—to herself). Thank Goodness, that's over! It was awful. I don't think I ever saw Mamma a deeper shade of plum colour! How I have been mistaken in Mr. Blair! That he could write those lines:—
"Aspiring unto that far-off Ideal, How should I stoop to any meaner love?"
and yet philander with my poor foolish Phillipson the moment he met her! And then to tell Mamma about my letter like that! Why, even Mr. Spurrell had more discretion—to be sure, he knew nothing about it—but that makes no difference! Rhoda was right; I ought to have allowed a margin; only I should never have allowed enough! The worst of it is that, if Mamma was unjust in some things she said, she was right about one. I have disgusted Gerald. He mayn't be brilliant, but at least he's straightforward and loyal and a gentleman, and—and he did like me once. He doesn't any more, or he wouldn't have gone away. And it may be ages before I ever get a chance to let him see how dreadfully sorry—— (She turns, and sees Captain Thicknesse.) Oh, haven't you gone yet?
Captain Thicknesse. Yes, I went, but I've come back again. I—I couldn't help it; 'pon my word I couldn't.
Lady Maisie (with a sudden flush). You—you weren't sent for—by—by anyone?
Capt. Thick. So likely anyone would send for me, isn't it?
Lady Maisie. I don't know why I said that; it was silly, of course. But how——?
Capt. Thick. Ran it a bit too fine; got to Shuntin'bridge just in time to see the tail end of the train disappearin'; wasn't another for hours—not much to do there, don't you know.
Lady Maisie. You might have taken a walk—or gone to Church.
Capt. Thick. So I might, didn't occur to me; and besides, I—I remembered I never said good-bye to you.