"I don't know," said he, and for a moment left her awkwardly placed. But his manliness once more came to his aid—for there could be but one conclusion if he said no more—and he added: "I am away next Sunday; I come back on Wednesday. That night I dine with the Ardinglys."
"I also. Till Wednesday, then, Jim—go and not do all these things you spoke of! Not doing things takes longer than doing them. It takes all the time, in fact. Good-bye!"
[CHAPTER IX]
It was never denied, even by the stupidest of her enemies, that Mildred Brereton was a woman of the world, and her mode of procedure, when she learned from Maud of her first rejection of Anthony's hand, was perfectly correct from the standpoint of wisdom. She made no fuss or scene of any kind, and only said:
"Dear Maud, I am very, very sorry. But you know, dear, how I trust you."
Maud pondered this remark, in her silent, uncomfortable way, for a moment.
"Do you mean you trust me eventually to accept him?" she asked.
Mrs. Brereton wondered in her own mind where Maud could have got her tactlessness from. Aloud she said: