'I'm glad you agree with me at last. It shows that you're not so
perfectly mad as you seemed. If you had gone on as you were talking at
first I should certainly have had a mad doctor to examine you. As it
is, I don't believe you're fit to have all that money. You mean well, I
daresay. But you have no sense. None at all.' Margaret laughed and took the opportunity of the lull in the battle to
escape to her own room. A moment later Mrs. Rushmore followed her and
knocked at the door.
'I'm sure you've had nothing to eat all day,' she called out anxiously,
before Margaret could answer.
Margaret opened and put her head out, to explain that she had lunched,
but she did not say where.
'Oh, very well!' answered Mrs. Rushmore, unwilling to show that her
anger had subsided so soon. 'That's all I wanted to know.' Like most Anglo-Saxons, she vaguely connected regular meals with
morality.
When Margaret was alone she realised that she was more disturbed by
Lushington's unexpected appearance at Logotheti's door than she had
thought it possible to be. At the time, she had been surprised to see
him and a little hurt by his manner, but she had attributed the latter
to his natural shyness. Now that she could think quietly about the
meeting, she remembered his eyes and the look of cold resentment she
had seen in them for the first time since she had known him. He had no
right to be angry with her for lunching with Logotheti, she was quite
sure. He had parted from her, giving her to understand that they were
to meet as little as possible in future. How could he possibly claim to
criticise her actions after that? A few days ago, she would have
married him, if he had not insisted that it was impossible. She was not
sure that she would marry him now, if he came back. He had looked as if
he meant to interfere in her life, after refusing to share it. No woman
will tolerate that.
Yet she was disturbed, and a little sad, now that the day was over.
Logotheti had found words for a thought that had passed through her
mind, it was true; if Lushington loved her, how could he make an
obstacle of what she had been so ready to overlook? The Greek's direct
speeches had appealed to her, while he had been at her side. But now,
she wished with all her heart that Lushington would appear to ask her
questions, and let her answer them. She had a most unreasonable
impression that she had somehow angered him, and wronged herself in his
eyes. She would not ask herself whether she loved him still, or whether
she had really loved him at all, but she longed to see him. He had said
that he was leaving again in the evening, but perhaps he would think
better of it and come out to see her. She even thought of writing to
him, for she knew his London address. He lived in Bolton Street,
Piccadilly, and she remembered his telling her that his windows looked
upon a blank brick wall opposite, in which he sought inspiration and
sometimes found it. Sometimes, he had said, he saw her face there.