The two women made a strange, contrast as they faced one another, Millicent with her youth, beauty and happiness, the other scowling, partly at the sudden sunlight, partly at the surprise of finding a stranger there.
"I beg your pardon," said Millie smiling. "Do you want any one?"
"Do I want any one?" said the other, in a voice half-snarl, half-irony; "that's good! In one's own house too!"
"Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried Millie again blushing. "I didn't know. I've only been here an hour. I'm Miss Platt's new secretary."
"Oh, you are, are you? Well, I'm Miss Platt's old sister, and when I said it was my house I made of course the greatest possible mistake, because it isn't my house and never will be. You can call me a guest or a companion or even a prisoner if you like. Anything that it pleases you."
This was said with such extreme bitterness that Millie thought that the sooner she returned to her work at the roll-top desk the better.
"You're Miss Ellen Platt?" she asked.
"I am. And what's your name?"
"Millicent Trenchard."