“Because she doesn’t know how far Grimshaw has gone. He said he had full authority. Perhaps now she wishes she hadn’t given it to him.”
Miss Frink came back. “Think how many times you’ve put me to sleep, Millicent. Now you let the ocean do the same for you. Go right into that room and make yourself comfortable. Lie down on my bed and don’t think about anything but the waves.”
They left her, and Miss Frink looked at the car admiringly as Hugh drove it around to the hotel steps. It had been cleaned into new blueness again, and she sank into the low seat and breathed a sigh of satisfaction as it rolled smoothly away.
“Poor Millicent,” said Hugh. He meant it as a gentle hint that now they were alone his aunt might confide in him on the affair that had brought them. Evidently nothing was further from her intention.
“Yes, I hope she gets to sleep,” she returned. “Could anything run smoother than this, Hugh?”
The brisk ocean breeze swept past them. Hugh accepted the dismissal of his little love. He glanced around at his companion’s strong features, set now in perfect contentment.
“I’m the lover she never had,” he reflected, “and the husband she never had, and the son she never had, and the grandson she thought she had, but he comes right away and tells her he loves somebody else. Tough, I’ll say.”
They were speeding along the road near the sea, and passing summer homes set far apart.
“You will like to have the car in New York this fall, Hugh.”