"Don't sit down under it, my dear," she said at last. "We can't control
life, but we can fight it. Make the best of things. I've had to. I held
on, like you; and I cried, as you're crying now. And look at me!"
Fleur raised her head; a sob merged suddenly into a little choked laugh.
In truth it was a thin and rather wild and wasted spirit she was looking
at, but it had brave eyes.
"All right!" she said. "I'm sorry. I shall forget him, I suppose, if I
fly fast and far enough."
And, scrambling to her feet, she went over to the wash-stand.
June watched her removing with cold water the traces of emotion. Save
for a little becoming pinkness there was nothing left when she stood
before the mirror. June got off the bed and took a pin-cushion in her
hand. To put two pins into the wrong places was all the vent she found
for sympathy.
"Give me a kiss," she said when Fleur was ready, and dug her chin into
the girl's warm cheek.
"I want a whiff," said Fleur; "don't wait."
June left her, sitting on the bed with a cigarette between her lips
and her eyes half closed, and went down-stairs. In the doorway of the
drawing-room stood Soames as if unquiet at his daughter's tardiness.
June tossed her head and passed down on to the half-landing. Her cousin
Francie was standing there.
"Look!" said June, pointing with her chin at Soames. "That man's fatal!"
"How do you mean," said Francie, "fatal?"
June did not answer her. "I shan't wait to see them off," she said.
"Good-bye!"
"Good-bye!" said Francie, and her eyes, of a Celtic grey, goggled. That
old feud! Really, it was quite romantic!
Soames, moving to the well of the staircase, saw June go, and drew a
breath of satisfaction. Why didn't Fleur come? They would miss their
train. That train would bear her away from him, yet he could not help
fidgeting at the thought that they would lose it. And then she did come,
running down in her tan-coloured frock and black velvet cap, and passed
him into the drawing-room. He saw her kiss her mother, her aunt, Val's
wife, Imogen, and then come forth, quick and pretty as ever. How would
she treat him at this last moment of her girlhood? He couldn't hope for
much!
Her lips pressed the middle of his cheek.
"Daddy!" she said, and was past and gone! Daddy! She hadn't called him
that for years. He drew a long breath and followed slowly down. There
was all the folly with that confetti stuff and the rest of it to go
through with yet. But he would like just to catch her smile, if she
leaned out, though they would hit her in the eye with the shoe, if they
didn't take care. Young Mont's voice said fervently in his ear: