"Clumsy fool!" she said to the footman, and without a pause: "You have got something on your mind, Mildred. What is it? Always get things off your mind, my dear, as soon as possible. It is very enfeebling to worry. Is it"—and her eye fell on Maud, who was talking in a group on the other side of the room—"is it about your daughter? She is getting a big girl. It is time you married her."
Mrs. Brereton gave a little staccato note of admiration.
"You are too wonderful!" she said. "Yes, it is exactly that. Anthony Maxwell wants to marry her."
"Very nice. The son of the great Mr. Maxwell, you mean?" asked Lady Ardingly, without the slightest inflection of irony.
"Yes."
Lady Ardingly laughed.
"What a pity we did not sell them this house! Maud would have been mistress here," she said. "At present she does not wish to marry him. Is it so? I do not wonder, dear Mildred, at a momentary hesitation. Do you? But it would be a very good marriage for her."
"So I have told her."
"Then, do not tell her so again. Ah, here come the men! Let us play Bridge immediately. Only I will not play with your husband, dear Mildred. I would sooner play with a groom out of the stables. We will have two tables, and he shall be at the other one. Send Maud here a moment. I will speak to her."
Mrs. Brereton rose with alacrity.