The fact of
her having told him a lie seemed, in the eyes of her morbidly active
conscience, to put her under an obligation to him, an indebtedness
that she was in no mind to increase. She folded her hands on the
napkin, and again looked about her.
"Don't you want that stuff?" Windebank asked.
"No, thank you."
"Neither do I. Take it away!"
The waiters removed the soup, to substitute, almost immediately, an
appetising preparation of fish. At the same time an elderly,
important-mannered man poured out wine with every conceivable
elaboration of his office.
"Don't refuse this. The place is famous for it," urged Windebank.
"You know what I said. I mean it more than ever."
"Don't you know that obstinacy is one of the seven deadly sins?"
"Is it?"
"If it isn't, it ought to be. Do change your mind."
"Nothing will make me," she replied icily.
He signalled to the waiters to remove the food.
"What a jolly night we're having!" he genially remarked, when the
men were well out of hearing.
"I'm afraid I've spoiled your evening."
"Not at all. I like a good feed. It does one good."
Mavis would have been hard put to it to repress a smile at this
remark, had she not suddenly remembered how she had left her purse
in the pocket of the frock that she had left behind her at Mrs
Hamilton's; she realised that she would have to walk to Mrs
Bilkins's.
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