'They are charming girls,' he said briefly.
On the surface of her profound relief and joy there played like a flying fish the thought: 'Was he meaning to call in any case? Was he on his way here?'
They talked about Aunt Hannah, whom Twemlow had seen that morning and who was improving rapidly. But he agreed with Leonora that the old lady's vitality had been irretrievably shattered. Then there was a pause, followed by some remarks on the weather, and then another pause. Bran, after watching them attentively for a few moments as they stood side by side near the French window, rose up from off his haunches, and walked gloomily away.
'Bran, Bran!' Twemlow cried.
'It's no use,' she laughed. 'He's vexed. He thinks he's being neglected. He'll go to his kennel and nothing will bring him out of it, except food. Come into the house. It's going to rain again.'
'Well,' the visitor exclaimed familiarly.
They were seated by the fire in the drawing-room. Leonora was removing her gloves.
'Well?' she repeated. 'And so you still think Milly ought to be allowed to go on the stage?'
'I think she will go on the stage,' he said.