The Swing of the Pendulum

by Frances Mary Peard

“I did not see much of your friend when we were travelling together.”

“Millie is shy. And I think one must know her at home to know her at all. Once known, once loved!”

“You are a warm friend,” said Anne, with a smile. “For a true estimate I must go to some indifferent person. Will Mr Wareham do? Or is he, too, bespoken counsel?”

A glance at Fanny showed her red, she did not like the word bespoken.

“I have never talked to Mr Wareham about Miss Ravenhill,” she said stiffly.

“Oh, I have!”

It was irresistible.

“And what did he say?” asked Lady Fanny, with eagerness.

“Well, not quite so much as you. Could you expect it?” There was a touch of malice in Anne’s voice, which Fanny resented.

“What did I say? That to know her was to love her? Oh, no, I couldn’t expect that! Do you see that ugly little clump of houses? That’s the beginning of Risley.”