She felt her rashness, the next moment, at her young friend's question. "Why not, as well as any one else who has played him a trick?"
"Well, because he doesn't regard it as a trick. He could understand your action. It's all right, you see."
"Yes—I do see. It is all right. He's easier with me than with any one else, because that's the way to let me down. He's only making believe, and I'm not worth hauling up."
Rueful at having provoked again this ominous flare, poor Susie grasped at her only advantage. "Do you really accuse a man like Sir Luke Strett of trifling with you?"
She couldn't blind herself to the look her companion gave her—a strange half-amused perception of what she made of it. "Well, so far as it's trifling with me to pity me so much."
"He doesn't pity you," Susie earnestly reasoned. "He just—the same as any one else—likes you."
"He has no business then to like me. He's not the same as any one else."
"Why not, if he wants to work for you?"
Milly gave her another look, but this time a wonderful smile. "Ah there you are!" Mrs. Stringham coloured, for there indeed she was again. But Milly let her off. "Work for me, all the same—work for me! It's of course what I want." Then as usual she embraced her friend. "I'm not going to be as nasty as this to him."
"I'm sure I hope not!"—and Mrs. Stringham laughed for the kiss. "I've no doubt, however, he'd take it from you! It's you, my dear, who are not the same as any one else."