When she returned, Vida was putting a bouquet of arbutus and violets in water.
"You're not to get out of bed," she scolded.
"I answered the doorbell. Vermillion sent me these."
"Oh," Lucy said dully, alert to Vida's suppressed elation, "I suppose Figente told him you were ill. He can be nice when he wants to be."
How stupid not to have seen how much Vida and he had in common. It was Vida to whom he had talked at Clem's party and Vida who had understood. He only sat with me because I made him. This will teach me a lesson.
"I phoned to thank him and he said to give you his regards. He is going to try and drop in before he sails Thursday. I'm certainly sorry he's leaving just when I'm beginning to know him better. But then he says he may not be away long. These days people come and go and think nothing of it," Vida concluded with a new proprietary assurance, her cheeks feverish.
"Yes," Lucy echoed disconsolately, wondering at Vida's success in reaching him, "they come and go, come and go, and think nothing of it."
"Do you believe in Fate?" Lucy asked Vida while dressing the next morning to meet Nino.
"I don't know whether I do or not, though to tell you the truth, quoting you, I am drawn to the belief of the ancient Greeks because at times it does seem that a Fate is running things for me. Though sometimes it seems more like Nemesis. Maybe it's only instinct, or that new term everyone is using—the unconscious. But, then again, how would that affect others? Does that make sense?" She looked dreamily at the arbutus and violets doubled in the dresser mirror, wondering if Rad had been contrived by Fate as purgatorial preparation for maturity and Vermillion.
"I don't understand all that, but I do think it must mean Fate or something if you try to reach someone over and over and can't."
"That could be mischance—you have to keep trying," Vida replied, half listening.
"It seems to me it must mean something, but I hope you're right," Lucy said doubtfully.
"Don't be so superstitious and have a good time," Vida said, hop-
