Mildred laughed again, but all the same, for some reason inexplicable to herself, felt annoyed. "Here _is_ Mr. O'Neil; you'd better propose."
"Mildred, if you reveal my love--oh! how I shall hate you."
But Mildred, watching the approaching figure of the man she knew merely as O'Neil, did not reply. She was wondering why she was so attracted towards him. He was not particularly good-looking, nor had he shown any marked preference for her society. Indeed, she had laughed with Mrs. Perth over the attentions which O'Neil paid the old lady. But there was something about the secretary which made Mildred's pulses beat as they never beat in the presence of Jarman. Perhaps, although she never knew, it was a case of telepathy, for Frank was always moved beyond his usual self when in her presence. But he never revealed it by his manner. Mildred, however, was not sufficiently a psychologist to analyse her feeling, so did not search too closely into the reason of her sensations. Still, she could not help wondering why she felt annoyed by Jenny's silly remark.
"I think you had better take that Denham boy," said Mildred to Jenny. "He bothers me greatly, and he's the kind of donkey who would fall in love with anyone."
"I don't regard myself as anyone," said Jenny, with dignity. "Besides, he's not half so nice as Mr. O'Neil."
Mildred acknowledged this with a sigh, and welcomed O'Neil with a blush, which he marked and wondered at. "Where is Mr. Jarman?" she asked.
"He has gone bathing with Billy and Denham," said Frank, standing outside and looking in at the window. "I have done my work, and came to be rewarded."
"With what--cakes and ale?" asked Jenny, languishing.
"Their modern equivalent in the shape of afternoon tea."
"Let's have it outside on the lawn. Oh, Mildred, do!"