Bertha seemed silently to assent.
“And will dear Nigel ask me all the same to meet Rupert, Bertha?”
“Oh yes; we’ll arrange it to-day. Nigel’s delightfully prompt, and never delays anything.”
“And what will happen to Percy? You scarcely ever go out without him.”
“Oh, I can persuade Percy, for once, that he wants his mother to go with him to the Queen’s Hall. And I’ll make Lady Kellynch think it’s rather a shame of her to take my place; then she’ll enjoy it. We’ll arrange it for next week. I’m expecting her this afternoon.”
“Oh, are you? I’m always rather afraid she doesn’t like me,” said Madeline pensively.
“She doesn’t dislike you. She doesn’t dislike anybody; only, simply, you don’t exist for her. My mother-in-law really believes that the whole of humanity consists of her own family; first, her late husband; then Percy, then Clifford, the boy at school, and, in a very slight degree, me too, because I’m married to Percy. I do like Clifford, though he’s a spoilt boy, and selfish. But he’s great fun. How his mother adores him! I hope she won’t stay long to-day—Nigel will be here at six.”
Madeline fell into a reverie, a sort of mental swoon. Then she suddenly woke up and said with great animation,
—“No, I suppose I dare not hope it!—I believe I should expire with joy!—but he never will! But if he did propose, how do you suppose he’d do it, Bertha?”
“Heaven knows—quote Browning, I suppose,” said Bertha, “I don’t often meet that type. I can only guess. Do you care so much, Madeline?”