“Yes, I have seen her.”
Millie’s mouth opened as if she were going to put another question, but if it were so her intention changed. She said with enthusiasm—
“She is very beautiful.”
Wareham did not answer. He had turned his back upon the group, and was looking over the water past some brilliantly red-roofed barns to a broken line of tender amethyst-coloured hills.
“Are those people going to get out here?”
“What people?”
“Miss Dalrymple and her friends.”
“No. They told us at Hull—we all dined together at the Station Hotel, you know—that they should go on to Bergen.”
“Oh, good!” said Wareham, with unmistakable relief.
Millie began to laugh.