Brigit was an idiot, a fool, a beastly little creature to do such a
thing. Ponty was a gentleman, at least, whereas----
"Whereas Theo is a delightful, nice, perfectly presentable young man,
and the son of the greatest violinist of the century."
"Ah, bah! of the last ten years, yes."
"Of the century. As to Ponty--why don't you marry him yourself? Anyone
could marry Ponty!"
Then, suddenly ashamed of herself, the girl had begged her mother's
pardon, but Lady Kingsmead was not of those to whom the crowning charm
of graceful forgiveness has been vouchsafed, and the battle went on. To
end it, Brigit announced her intention of going to stop with her friend
Pam de Lensky, and without more ado, or a word of good-bye, had left the
house.
Now, though ashamed, or possibly because she was ashamed, her anger
against her mother refused to subside, but grew stronger and bitterer as
the train rushed through the dull afternoon Londonwards.
"Why shouldn't I marry whom I choose? What has she ever done for me that
gives her a right to dictate to me? And I could _kill_ Gerald." A dark
flush crept up her cheeks and her mouth twisted furiously. For Carron
had dared to waylay her in the passage on her way to her room, and his
remarks had not been of a kind calculated to quiet her.
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