“And that would be enough?”
“Oh, yes.”
“You think nothing of your promise?” Anne was looking at her through half-closed eyes and smiling.
“I am not sure that I don’t think too much. It becomes unendurable. When I am married it will have to be in a whirlwind. No hesitations, no hanging back. So much I can tell him. The rest he will have to find out. Stormed, really stormed, I should be afraid of myself.”
She fell into silence. There was no sound except the rush of the water, not so much as the chirp of a bird. At last she looked round again.
“So you see—me voici!—Anne Dalrymple.”
Millie cried out—
“I am glad I am not a London beauty!”
“There are more disagreeable positions,” Anne said reflectively. “Now, if you had said a London beauty with a heart—”
“Have you no heart?” Millie asked impulsively.