Perhaps she would reward him by
calling him a darling again. Really he deserved that she should say
something nice to him.
It was a day of surprises for Georgie. He found Olga at home, and
recounted, without loving any of the substance, the sarcasms of Lucia,
and his own amazing tact and forbearance. He did not comment, he just
narrated the facts in the vivid Riseholme manner, and waited for his
reward.
Olga looked at him a moment in silence: then she deliberately wiped her
eyes.
"Oh, poor Mrs Lucas" she said. "She must have been miserable to have
behaved like that! I am so sorry. Now what else can you do, Georgie, to
make her feel better?"
"I think I've done everything that could have been required of
_me_," said Georgie. "It was all I could do to keep my temper at
all. I will give my party at Christmas, because I promised you I
would."
"Oh, but it's ten days to Christmas yet," said Olga. "Can't you paint
her portrait, and give it her for a present. Oh, I think you could,
playing the Moonlight-Sonata."
Georgie felt terribly inclined to be offended and tell Olga that she
was tired of him: or to be dignified and say he was unusually busy.
Never had he shown such forbearance towards downright rudeness as he
had shown to Lucia, and though he had shown that for Olga's sake, she
seemed to be without a single spark of gratitude, but continued to urge
her request.
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