"No—I see. But can't you help him?"
"Can't you?" Milly after a moment quaintly asked. Then for the joke of it she explained. "I'm putting you, you see, in relation with my entourage."
It might have been for the joke of it too, by this time, that her eminent friend fell in. "But if this gentleman isn't of your 'entourage '? I mean if he's of—what do you call her?—Miss Croy's. Unless indeed you also take an interest in him."
"Oh certainly I take an interest in him!"
"You think there may be then some chance for him?"
"I like him," said Milly, "enough to hope so."
"Then that's all right. But what, pray," Sir Luke next asked, "have I to do with him?"
"Nothing," said Milly, "except that if you're to be there, so may he be. And also that we shan't in that case be simply four dreary women."
He considered her as if at this point she a little tried his patience. "You're the least 'dreary' woman I've ever, ever seen. Ever, do you know? There's no reason why you shouldn't have a really splendid life."
"So every one tells me," she promptly returned.