“Oh, Freddy——” Rosedale brushed aside the topic with an air of its unimportance which gave a sense of the immense perspective he had acquired. “Freddy don’t count—but I knew YOU weren’t mixed up in that. It ain’t your style.”
Lily coloured slightly: she could not conceal from herself that the words gave her pleasure. She would have liked to sit there, drinking more tea, and continuing to talk of herself to Rosedale. But the old habit of observing the conventions reminded her that it was time to bring their colloquy to an end, and she made a faint motion to push back her chair.
Rosedale stopped her with a protesting gesture. “Wait a minute—don’t go yet; sit quiet and rest a little longer. You look thoroughly played out. And you haven’t told me——” He broke off, conscious of going farther than he had meant. She saw the struggle and understood it; understood also the nature of the spell to which he yielded as, with his eyes on her face, he began again abruptly: “What on earth did you mean by saying just now that you were learning to be a milliner?”
“Just what I said. I am an apprentice at Regina’s.”
“Good Lord—YOU? But what for? I knew your aunt had turned you down: Mrs. Fisher told me about it. But I understood you got a legacy from her——”
“I got ten thousand dollars; but the legacy is not to be paid till next summer.”
“Well, but—look here: you could BORROW on it any time you wanted.”
She shook her head gravely. “No; for I owe it already.”
“Owe it? The whole ten thousand?”
“Every penny.” She paused, and then continued abruptly, with her eyes on his face: “I think Gus Trenor spoke to you once about having made some money for me in stocks.”