“You’re a funny child, Milly. Hugh will feel something unfriendly in the change, just at the present time.”
Millicent seized her grandfather’s arm. “Dearest, everything wonderful is going to come to Hugh, now,” she said earnestly, “and I would like to be out of it. I don’t want to hear him talk about it. Hugh Sinclair isn’t Hugh Stanwood. He won’t be anything to us; not even a friend except at long intervals and—can’t you understand? I’d rather be the one to do the dropping.”
She released him suddenly and ran out of the house. Her grandfather stood in the same spot for some minutes, considering.
“It’s the most natural thing in the world,” he said to himself at last. “I don’t see how she could help it; but Milly has plenty of spirit, and I’ll take the hint till he goes away. Of course, he’ll be going away to law school.”
Now, as Millicent entered Miss Frink’s grounds and discerned Hugh on the porch, she saw him rise and throw away his cigarette. He came down the steps to meet her, looking unusually grave. His eyes studied her as if he must know her attitude before she spoke. She put her hand in the one he offered.
“How now that the cat is out of the bag?” he asked.
“What difference can it make to me?” she returned with a coolness that did not satisfy him.
“I’m glad if it doesn’t make any. I thought perhaps there wouldn’t be any route sufficiently roundabout for you to take me home this afternoon.”
His gaze continued to study her as they ascended the steps.