'Business, I suppose?' she said, and prayed that he might not be intending to make a mere call of ceremony.
'Yes, business,' he answered lightly. 'But you will be in?'
'I am always in,' she said. She wondered what the business could be, and felt relieved to know that his visit would have at least some assigned pretext; but already her heart beat with apprehensive perturbation at the thought of his presence in their household.
'See!' said Agnes, whose eyes were everywhere, 'There's Miss Sutton.'
Both Mynors and Anna looked sharply round. Beatrice Sutton was coming towards them along the terrace. Stylishly clad in a dress of pink muslin, with harmonious hat, gloves, and sunshade, she made an agreeable and rather effective picture, despite her plain, round face and stoutish figure. She had the air of being a leader. Grafted on to the original simple honesty of her eyes there was the unconsciously-acquired arrogance of one who had always been accustomed to deference. Socially, Beatrice had no peer among the young women who were active in the Wesleyan Sunday-school. Beatrice had been used to teach in the afternoon school, but she had recently advanced her labours from the afternoon to the morning in response to a hint that if she did so the force of her influence and example might lessen the chronic dearth of morning teachers.
'Good afternoon, Miss Tellwright,' Beatrice said as she came up. 'So you have come to look at the Park.'
'Yes,' said Anna, and then stopped awkwardly. In the tone of each there was an obscure constraint, and something in Mynors' smile of salute to Beatrice showed that he too shared it.
'Seen you before,' Beatrice said to him familiarly, without taking his hand; then she bent down and kissed Agnes.
'What are you doing here, mademoiselle?' Mynors asked her.
'Father's just down below, near the lake. He caught sight of you, and sent me up to say that you were to be sure to come in to supper to-night. You will, won't you?'