Gillian’s prophecy proved only too accurate.  People did talk.  Kit Raynham had been a general favourite in society, and his disappearance, taken in conjunction with the well-known fact of his infatuation for Magda, created a sensation.

Even when the theory of suicide was finally disproved by his mother’s receiving a letter from Australia, whither it appeared, the boy had betaken himself and his disappointment, people seemed at first disinclined to overlook Magda’s share in the matter.  For a time even her immense prestige as a dancer suffered some eclipse, but this, with a performer of her supreme artistry, was bound to be only a passing phase.

The world will always condone where it wants to be amused.  And—­now that the gloom of young Raynham’s supposed suicide was lifted from the affair—­there was a definite aroma of romance about it which was not without its appeal to the younger generation.

So that gradually the pendulum swung back and Magda’s audiences were once again as big and enthusiastic as ever.  Perhaps even more enthusiastic, since the existence of a romantic and dramatic attachment sheds a certain glamour about any well-known artiste.

All of which affected Magda herself comparatively little—­though it irritated her that her actions should be criticised.  What did affect her, however, absorbing her thoughts to the exclusion of all other matters, was that since the night of Lady Arabella’s reception she had received neither word nor sign from Michael Quarrington.

She could not understand it.  Had he been a different type of man she might have credited him with having yielded to a sudden impulse, kissing her as some men will kiss women—­lightly and without giving or asking more than the moment’s caress.

But Quarrington was essentially not the man to be carried away by a passing fancy.  That he had cared for her against his will, against his better judgment, Magda could not but realise. But he had cared! She was sure of it.  And he was the only man for whom her own pulses had ever beaten one whit the faster.

His touch, the sound of his voice, the swift, hawk-like glance of those grey eyes of his, had power to wake in her a vague tumult of emotion at once sweet and frightening; and in that brief moment in the “Garden of Eden,” when he had held her in his arms, she had been tremulously ready to yield—­to surrender to the love which claimed her.

But the days had multiplied to weeks and still the silence which had followed remained unbroken.  As far as Magda was concerned, Michael seemed to have walked straight out of her life, and she was too proud—­and too much hurt—­to inquire amongst her friends for news of him.  It was her godmother who finally tersely enlightened her as to his whereabouts.

Characteristically, Lady Arabella had withheld her judgment regarding the Kit Raynham affair until it was found that he had betaken himself off to Australia.  But when the whole of the facts were evident, she allowed nothing—­neither the romantic dreams of the episode nor her own warm affection for her god-daughter—­to obscure her clear-sighted vision.