above all, the self-deception of it, when Lucia had proudly announced she had not told a lie, was utterly antagonistic to Maud; she could not praise it, could not rejoice in its success. It seemed to her that to sit down and think out such means and then to employ them, infected and tarnished the love on behalf of which they were employed. If only Lucia had felt the meanness of it, acknowledged it, regretted it, the case would have; been different. But she gloried in it; she laughed with exultation at the thought of its success. And then, without desire or conscious encouragement on her part, there came into her mind other occasions when for a moment (a moment, as it had then appeared, of petty disloyalty and suspicion on her part) she had thought that Lucia had acted in a way that was unworthy, deceitful—in a way that she now saw was entirely in accord with this. She could not bear to think that it was Lucia who had done ythis, or who prided herself on it now. Surely this was not the real Lucia.
"Was it not well thought out?" demanded Lucia in conclusion.
This was a direct question; she paused for a reply.
"Yes, very well thought out," said Maud. "Brilliant, quite brilliant." But cordiality of tone was beyond her; it was as much as she could do to smile in an awkward, distorted way that could not easily escape the notice of the Bismarck of Littlestone.
"Why, what is the matter?" asked Lucia.
Maud looked at her imploringly.
"Oh, Lucia, don't let us talk about it," she said. "It's time to bathe."
Lucia frowned.
"I want to know what is the matter?" she said again.
Maud gave a little groan of despair.
"Oh, don't be cross with me," she said, "but I hate it, you know. I am so sorry you did it. It can't be right, even in things like a picnic and headache, to deceive everyone like that. And to make him think that you had intended to ask him on Friday, when you had so carefully planned Thursday. And—and to do it all for the sake of what is so splendid as love; I think that is the worst part of it. Of course, everybody says 'Not at home,' because that is only a formula, and nothing depends on it. But to deceive people when a lot depends on it"
