If Millicent’s cheeks could have gained a deeper hue it would have been there. Her temples grew rosy, and her lips parted. A little frown met her companion.
“Now, if it had been I that sat there sporting all those crimson jewels, I, with my high forehead, and silver threads among the gold, you would just have given a little sympathetic grin at Papa, and curtsied, and let it go at that.”
“Mr. Ogden,” with displeasure, “I am not so—”
“Just let me tell you, Miss Duane, so you’ll think better of him, that Prince Charming isn’t working at it as a profession at all. I never saw anybody whose good looks disturbed him less.”
“Mr. Ogden, do you suppose—”
“So I don’t want you to let it set you against him, or feel the way you did when you ran downstairs just now. By the way, Miss Duane, do you happen to be related to the Colonel Duane who has a war record? Very distinguished man. I’ve heard he lives in Farrandale.”
The speaker had the pleasure of watching the transformation in the transparent face, from bewildered resentment to eagerness.
“There!” he said suddenly, “I suspected you had a dimple. If I had been wearing that dressing-gown, I should have seen it sooner.”
“Why, it’s Grandpa. Colonel Duane is my grandfather.—Perhaps you knew it all the time, and that is the reason you’ve been so—so disrespectful in your talk.”
Ogden laughed. “Indeed, the fact should have made me far more respectful. I didn’t know it, but your pretty name brought up the association. I certainly should like to meet Colonel Duane.”