A score of times Catrina approached the subject, and with imperturbable
steadfastness Maggie held to her determination that Paul was not to be
discussed by them. She warded, she evaded, she ignored with a skill
which baffled the simple Russian. She had a hundred subterfuges--a
hundred skilful turns and twists. Where women learn these matters,
Heaven only knows! All our experience of the world, our falls and
stumbles on the broken road of life, never teach us some things that are
known to the veriest schoolgirl standing on the smoother footpath that
women tread.
At last Catrina rose to go. Maggie rose also. Women are relentless where
they fight for their own secrets. Maggie morally turned Catrina out of
the room. The two girls stood looking at each other for a moment. They
had nothing in common. The language in which they understood each other
best was the native tongue of neither. Born in different countries, each
of a mixed race with no one racial strain in common, neither creed, nor
education, nor similarity of thought had aught to draw them together.
They looked at each other, and God's hand touched them. They both loved
the same man. They did not hate each other.
"Have you every thing you want?" asked Catrina.
The question was startling. Catrina's speech was ever abrupt. At first
Maggie did not understand.
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