She left the house without a word, and taking a hansom went straight to
Golden Square.
Félicité, who was alone, kissed her kindly and insisted on giving her
tea. This, however, Brigit refused. Desperate as she was, she had come
to the point of feeling that she could never again accept the little
woman's hospitality. What she was going to do she did not know, but she
was not going to marry Théo, and she would never again come to Golden
Square.
"No, thanks," she said gently, "I want to see your husband, so as you
think he is there, I will rush up to Chelsea. You look tired--_petite
mère_."
Félicité smiled. "I am. I have been turning out our room and re-hanging
all the pictures. But I like doing it. How is dear Tommy?"
"Much better, thanks. He is going to Margate to-morrow--to the sea, you
know."
Félicité went downstairs with her and kissed her again at parting. "Théo
will be very glad you are in town," she said. "And you, my daughter--do
things go better with you?"
Touched by the kind light in her innocent eyes, Brigit lied. "Ah, yes,
much better, thank you," she returned; "everything is all right."
And when she was in her hansom hurrying Chelseawards, she felt with a
sigh that it was a harmless lie.
"She is a dear, poor Félicité, and when Victor has told her that I will
not marry Théo, and I have gone away--she will be less troubled."