“So he would in mine, if I had the arrangement of things,” Millie retorted. “But I haven’t, and all that can be done is to make the best of them. Perhaps you haven’t found out that Mr Wareham detests Miss Dalrymple, and evidently wishes to avoid her. We needn’t force them upon each other.”
“I thought he did not know her?”
“Nor does he.”
“Well,” said her mother, with impatience, “have it as you like, Millie, only, for pity’s sake, don’t let us plunge into a cloud of mystifications and prejudices! We didn’t come to Norway for that, and Mr Wareham isn’t worth it.”
To this the girl made no answer, and the subject dropped.
So they went out, all three, in the cool clear daylight, which had no suggestion of evening about it, except that the shop-doors were locked, and people strolled about with leisure which seemed unnatural. The streets were not beautiful, but all the boarded houses had clean white faces, red roofs, and cheerful windows crowded with flowers. Presently they came upon the old cathedral with its two low spires; on one side an ancient avenue of storm-stunted sycamores, dignified a grave little cluster of houses at its end. Millie wanted to go into the church, and professed herself injured at finding it closed.
“Mayn’t they ever shut up?” said Wareham, holding out his watch with a smile.
“It is a quarter to ten!” she exclaimed, but refused to return. A lake glimmered through the trees—they went there, and afterwards along stony ways round the harbour. Something—was it the pure light air, the kindly sensible-faced people?—set the girls heart, throbbing. She had suddenly caught her mother’s simple power of enjoyment, and Wareham owned that her quick intuition gave originality to the commonplace.
By the time the harbour was reached, lights were golden, colour ran riot in the sky. There was too much ripple on the water for reflections, but the green boats bobbed gaily up and down; while far away the mountains lay faintly blue against the eastern sky, out of which light paled. Beyond the streets are public gardens, the houses are left behind, and the wide water-mouth stretches broadly. Now there was nothing but the lap of waves, distant islands, more distant mountains, and the sunset sky above.
They lingered, and silently watched the pomp fade, found a boat, and rowed across the harbour in the last afterglow.