"You must really give a ball, Mr. Haverford," she said; then, restlessly, "Is it time to go, Agnes? I am sure it is. You look as though you were longing to be in your little bi-bi."
They did not go immediately, however, but she kept all the men hovering about her, and adroitly avoided being alone with Haverford for an instant.
"Did I hear you make an assignation for to-morrow with that dear, dull person?" she queried listlessly as Mrs. Brenton and she were swept fleetly homewards in Haverford's electric carriage.
"Yes; he is coming to see me in the morning, or rather to see somebody else." And then Mrs. Brenton explained further.
"I fancy his mother must be a cat," said Camilla, yawning; "they don't seem to meet very often. I am sure I am not surprised, for he is a very dreary person, you know, Agnes, my dear."
"Since when?" Mrs. Brenton spoke with some irritation. "I thought you liked him so much?"
"Oh, I change my mind occasionally!" She yawned again. "The fact is, I do like him sometimes, but then again I dislike him more often. You see, he bores me, and life is much—much too short to be bored...."
Mrs. Brenton sat silent a moment; then she said—
"Camilla, I want to..."
"No," said Camilla, "don't! I know so exactly what you want to say. I know it all by heart. He cares for me; he is such a good man; it will be such a splendid thing for me! Don't you suppose I can hear everybody saying this? Well, of course, it would be a splendid thing. I am not denying that; but oh! Agnes, he depresses me so horribly. When he talks to me I feel as though I were being prepared for confirmation, and he has a way of sitting and looking at me that is positively unbearable. If he only had a spice of the devil in him...."