“I do not know that it is a disadvantage?” he said, ignoring her last words, and defending blindly.
“Oh, no! Why should it be?”
Wareham would have preferred something more combative, wishing for argument, which was unattainable when his companion only acquiesced. He stood meditating, and Millie started from her knees.
“At this rate, we shall never get to Bakke!” she cried. “But strawberries are irresistible.”
“Do you really like them?”
There was a dissatisfied note in his voice. She thought with a pang—
“Already he can see nothing to praise where she is not,” and then was horrified because she seemed to make this a reproach. To punish herself she went back to Anne.
“I suppose the Martyns and Miss Dalrymple start in our steamer to-morrow? Do they go to Balholm?”
Wareham imagined they would go where Mrs Ravenhill went. Her spirits sank. She could not chatter as freely as usual, yet made a gallant effort.
“What flower is that? I never saw any like it. Oh, thank you! Look, it really is odd, canary-coloured, and hanging by a sort of filament. We must take it back to mother, who loves flowers.”