It was his turn to be taken aback.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, with new diffidence, “we must try to find you one here, then.”
Chris shot at him one merry glance, and then looked demurely at the floor.
“You needn’t trouble yourself to do that, Mr. Bradfield, thank you. I can find one for myself if I want one, I daresay.”
And, refusing to be detained any longer, she went upstairs, meeting her mother in the corridor above.
CHAPTER VII. A PORTRAIT.
“Mother—mother, who was the idiot that said riches don’t bring happiness?”
It was two days after the interview Chris had had with Mr. Bradfield in the drawing-room, and the new music had come. Mr. Bradfield, who had on several occasions during the past two days caught sight of Chris, but failed to get a word with her, had sent up a message to the effect that if Mrs. and Miss Abercarne would go down to the drawing-room, they would find something there which would interest one of them.