“Miss Bonner. She’d never forgive me.”
“Is she so strict?”
“She only uses servants for spies,” said Polly. “And since my Miss Rose come—though I’m up a step—I’m still a servant, and Miss Bonner’d be in a fury to see my—though I’m sure we’re quite respectable, Mr. Harrington—my having hold of you as I’m obliged to, and can’t help myself. But she’d say I ought to tumble off rather than touch her engaged with a little finger.”
“Her engaged?” cried Evan.
“Ain’t you, sir?” quoth Polly. “I understand you were going to be, from my lady, the Countess. We all think so at Beckley. Why, look how Miss Bonner looks at you, and she’s sure to have plenty of money.”
This was Polly’s innocent way of bringing out a word about her own young mistress.
Evan controlled any denial of his pretensions to the hand of Miss Bonner. He said: “Is it your mistress’s habit to make faces in the looking-glass?”
“I’ll tell you how it happened,” said Polly. “But I’m afraid I’m in your way, sir. Shall I get off now?”
“Not by any means,” said Evan. “Make your arm tighter.”
“Will that do?” asked Polly.