MILLIE RECOVERS HER BREATH
On the next afternoon about four of the clock Millie was writing letters with a sort of vindictive fury at Victoria's desk. Beppo had just brought her a cup of tea; there it stood at her side with the bread and butter badly cut as usual. But she did not care. She must work, work, work.
Like quicksilver were her fingers, her eyes flashed fire, the rain beat upon the windows and the loneliness and desolation were held at bay.
The door opened and in came Major Mereward; he looked as usual, untidy, with his hair towselled, his moustache ragged and his trousers baggy—not a military major at all—but now a light shone in his eyes and his eyebrows gleamed with the reflection of it. He knew that Millie was his friend, and coming close to her and stammering, he said:
"Miss Trenchard. It's all right. It's all right. Victoria will marry me."
Her heart leaped up. She was astonished at the keenness of her pleasure. She could then still care for other people's happiness.
"Oh, I am glad! I am glad!" she cried, jumping up and shaking him warmly by the hand. "I never was more pleased about anything."
"Well, now, that is nice—that's very nice of you. It will be all right, won't it? You know I'll do my best to make her happy."
"Why, of course you will," cried Millie. "You know that I've wanted her to marry you from ever so long ago. It's just what I wanted."
He set back his shoulders, looking so suddenly a man of strength and character that Millie was astonished.