Millie’s chief emotion, until this moment, had been one of intense boredom. The Stores seemed to her, after Paris, an impossible anachronism; she could not understand why it was not instantly burnt up and destroyed, and all its solemn absurdities cast, in dirt and ashes, to the winds.
She followed her mother with irritation, and glances of cynical contempt were flung by her upon the innocent ladies who were buying and chatting and laughing together. Then she remembered that her mother was in trouble, and she was bowed down with self-accusation for a hard heartless girl who thought of no one but herself. Her moods always thus followed swiftly one upon another.
When, in the furniture department, she heard that forlorn exclamation she wanted to take her mother’s hand, but was shy and embarrassed.
“I expect Katie had to go with Philip.... Something she had to do, and perhaps it only kept her a moment or two and she got back just after we’d left. We didn’t wait long enough for her. She’s been waiting there, I expect, all this time for us.”
Mrs. Trenchard’s cheek flushed and her eyes brightened.
“Why, Millie, that’s most likely! We’ll go back at once ... that’s most likely.... We’ll go back at once.”
“This is a very cheap article,” said the young man, “or if Madame would prefer a chair with—”
“No, no,” said Mrs. Trenchard quite impatiently. “Not to-day. Not to-day, thank you.”
“There are the hot-water bottles,” said Millie.
“Oh, of course.... I want some hot-water bottles. Ours leak ... three of them....”