“By the way,”—Eliza suddenly broke a silence—“there’s a piece of news for you, Hattie. A friend is coming to see you at five.”
“A friend—to see me!”
“To see you, my dear. In fact, I might say an admirer. Can’t you guess who?”
“I certainly can’t.”
“Then I think you ought.” Mischief had yielded to laughter of a rather quizzical kind.
“I didn’t know that I had any admirers—in Laxton.”
The touch of manner delicately suggested ducal circles.
“You can have a husband for the asking, our Harriet.” The eternal feminine was now in command of the situation.
Harriet frowned.
“I can’t think who it can be.”