They had gone twenty steps before she spoke.

'You might have trusted me,' she said.

'I should think you would understand why I did not tell you,' he

answered rather bitterly.

She opened her parasol so impatiently that it made an ominous little

noise as if it were cracking.

'I do understand,' she said, almost harshly, as she held it up against

the sun.

'And yet you complain because I did not tell you,' said Lushington in a

puzzled tone.

'It's you who don't understand!' Margaret retorted.

'No. I don't.' 'I'm sorry.' They went on a little way in silence, walking rather slowly. She was

angry with herself for being irritated by him, just when she admired

him more than ever before, and perhaps loved him better; though love

has nothing to do with admiration except to kindle it sometimes, just

when it is least deserved. Now it takes generous people longer to

recover from a fit of anger against themselves than against their

neighbours, and in a few moments Margaret began to feel very unhappy,

though all her original irritation against Lushington had subsided. She

now wished, in her contrition, that he would say something

disagreeable; but he did not. He merely changed the subject, speaking

quite naturally.

'So it is all decided,' he said, 'and you are to make your début.' 'Yes,' she answered, with a sort of eagerness to be friendly again.

'I'm a professional from to-day, with a stage name, a prey to critics,

reporters and photographers--just like your mother, except that she is

a very great artist and I am a very little one.' It was not very skilfully done, but Lushington was grateful for what

she meant by it, and for saying 'your mother' instead of 'Madame

Bonanni.' 'I think you will be great, too,' he said, 'and before very long. There

is no young soprano on the stage now, who has half your voice or half

your talent.' Margaret coloured with pleasure, though she could not quite believe

what he told her. But he glanced at her and felt sure that he was

right. She had voice and talent, he knew, but even with both some

singers fail; she had the splendid vitality, the boundless health and

the look of irresistible success, which only the great ones have. She

was not a classic beauty, but she would be magnificent on the stage.

There was a short silence, before she spoke.

'Two days ago,' she said, 'I did not think we would meet again so

soon.' 'Part again so soon, you ought to say,' he answered. 'It is nothing but

that, after all.' She bit her lip.




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