Brigit's one excuse was her mistaken assumption that her mother had
believed Carron's story, and when Lady Kingsmead had shrieked out
everything else that she thought might hurt her daughter, she added, "I
believed in you, you little brute, though he said he _saw_ you there. I
might have known he wouldn't have dared to make up such a tale."
Brigit, who had stood quite still, now spoke. "Then--you believe him
now?"
"Yes, I _do_!" lied Lady Kingsmead, goaded by the sneer on her
daughter's fierce mouth.
There was a long pause, and then Brigit Mead went to the door.
"I am sorry I lost my temper and made such a beast of myself," she said
slowly, "and--I will never speak to you again as long as I live."
She closed the door gently and went upstairs to her room.
It was done now, decided, her boats were burnt. From this day henceforth
she would be spoken of as the queer Mead girl who doesn't live with her
mother.
While she dressed for dinner she laid her plans with the quickness
native to her. She would dine and dance at the Newlyns, and then she
would go to the Joyselles' for the night.
The next day she would go and talk to a girl friend who had a flat in
huge and horrible "Mansions" out Kensington way.
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