“Truly not. It iss not wise,” agreed Mrs Isaacson, and proceeded to enlarge upon Millie’s dangerous beauty.
It was a topic entirely new to Millie. She simpered and giggled, disclaimed her attractions, protested that Mrs Isaacson was “getting at” her, and became so absorbed in the fascination of her disavowal that she forgot her weariness, her tender feet—naked to the road in two places—and all her discouragements. She walked with a more conscious air, straightening her back and lifting her head. The blood moved more freely in her veins, and she presently became so vivacious in her replies that Blanche was aroused to a sense of something unfamiliar. She checked the trolly and looked back at her sister, past the quiet brooding figure of Mrs Gosling.
“What is it, Mill?” she asked.
“Oh! nothing!” replied Millie. “We were just talking.”
“Seem to be enjoying yourselves,” said Blanche.
“We were saying that we shall soon now arrive at some place where we can rest. Yes?” put in Mrs Isaacson, and thus established a ground of confidence between herself and Millie.
“P’raps. I dunno!” returned Blanche. She sighed and looked round her.
In the fields between them and Marlow they could see here and there little figures stooping and straightening.
“Ooh!” exclaimed Millie, suddenly.
“What?” asked Blanche.