Challenged, Millie flung a mental glance at Wareham, but finding it impossible to set the two men side by side, signified her admiration, thinking it unnecessary to allude to its qualifications. After Fanny had glorified her idol for a little, she fell back upon the difficulty. He would never, never propose. What was to be done? Somebody must move.
“Somebody must,” Millie acknowledged. “Can’t he take a hint?”
“Never.”
“Would you like mother to write?”
“And get her into a scrape with Milborough and all of them? No.”
“She might ask him to luncheon—to breakfast?”
“He would arrive at eight. Besides—oh, no, no!”
Her head was buried again. When she lifted it, it was to remark—
“The morning is so cold-blooded! If there was only some excuse!”
“I dare say mother has a paper to be signed before a clergyman,” said Millie hopefully. “And they’re all taking holidays. I’ll go and see.”