"What?" Million raised her voice incautiously, and the myrtle-green-haired lady glanced around. "Miss Nosey Parker," muttered Million, and then "Straight? You mean you've had a bust-up with your Aunt Nasturtium?"
"Rather," I nodded.
"About that young gentleman, I lay?" said Million. "Him from next door."
"How did you guess it was that? It was," I admitted. "He came to return this brooch of yours that you dropped on the 'bus—here it is—and my aunt chose to—to—to——"
"Oh, I know the way Miss Lovelace would 'choose'," said Million, with gusto. "So you left her, Miss Beatrice! So you done a flit at last, like I always been saying you did ought to do! You done it! Cheers! And now what are you thinking to do? Coming to me, are you?"
I smiled into the little affectionate rosy face that I was so accustomed to seeing under a white frilly cap with a black bow.
I said: "Yes, Million. I'm coming to you if you'll have me."
"Ow! That's the style, Miss——"
"If I come, you won't have to call me 'Miss' any more," I said firmly. "That'll be part of it."
"Part of what?" asked Million, bewildered.