'My husband's name was Goodyear,' continued the prima donna
thoughtfully. 'You will find it in all biographies of me.' 'Goodyear,' Margaret repeated, looking at Lushington. 'What a nice
name! I like it.' 'You understand,' Madame Bonanni went on, explaining. '"Goodyear,"
"buon anno," "bonanno," "Bonanni"; that is how it is made up. It's a
good name for the stage, is it not?' 'Yes. But why did you change it at all for your son?' Madame Bonanni shrugged her large shoulders, glanced furtively at
Lushington, and then looked at Margaret.
'It was better,' she said. 'Fruit, Angelo!' 'Can I be of any use to you in getting off, mother?' asked Lushington.
Margaret felt that she had made another mistake, and looked at her
plate.
'No, my angel,' said Madame Bonanni, answering her son's question, and
eating hothouse grapes; 'you cannot help me in the least, my sweet. I
know you would if you could, dear child! But you will come and dine
with me quietly at the Carlton on Sunday at half-past eight, just you
and I. I promise you that no one shall be there, not even
Logotheti--though you do not mind him so much.' 'Not in the least,' Lushington answered, with a smile which Margaret
thought a little contemptuous. 'All the same, I would much rather be
alone with you.' 'Do you wonder that I love him?' asked Madame Bonanni, turning to
Margaret.
'No, I don't wonder in the least,' answered the young girl, with such
decision that Lushington looked up suddenly, as if to thank her.
The ordeal was over at last, and the prima donna rose with a yawn of
satisfaction.
'I am going to turn you out,' she said. 'You know I cannot live without
my nap.' She kissed Margaret first, and then her son, each on both cheeks, but
it was clear that she could hardly keep her eyes open, and she left
Margaret and Lushington standing together, exactly as she had left the
young girl with Logotheti on the first occasion.
Their eyes met for an instant and then Lushington got his hat and stick
and opened the door for Margaret to go out.
'Shall I call a cab for you?' he asked.
'No, thank you. I'll walk a little way first, and then drive to the
station.' When they were in the street, Lushington stood still.
'You believe that it was an accident, don't you?' he asked. 'I mean my
coming to-day.' 'Of course! Shall we walk on?' He could not refuse, and he felt that he was not standing by his
resolution; yet the circumstances were changed, since she now knew his
secret, and was warned.