“Well?”
“You needn’t ask,” said Lady Fanny, with asperity, “or, you wouldn’t need to ask if you knew Mr Elliot. Of course he means to hand over the offer to him.”
There was silence, then Mrs Ravenhill said gently—
“I think your Mr Elliot must be a very fine fellow, Fanny, and I’m beginning to be proud of knowing him.”
“That’s the only pride left to me.” She broke down, and buried her face in a sofa cushion. Millie was by her side in a moment, with her hand in both hers.
“Dearest, clearest Fanny!”
“Idiotic Fanny!—Say anything you like—Nothing would be foolish enough.—And I do detest shy men”—with a gasp between each sentence, and a laugh at the end.
Mrs Ravenhill slipped out of the room.
“There! Now I have spoilt your mother’s tea.”
“She had finished. Fanny, tell me, are you going to marry him?”