This last exclamation, uttered in a tone of unmistakable annoyance, caused Millie to turn swiftly.
Alan Warburton, having entered noiselessly at the door left ajar by Millie’s reckless hand, was standing in the centre of the room, his well-bred face expressive of nothing in particular, his eyes slightly smiling.
At sight of him, Millie shrank back, but Winnie came forward haughtily.
“You are doubtless surprised at seeing me here, sir,” she said, with freezing politeness, bent only upon screening Millie and beating an orderly retreat. “I came—in search of Millie; and, being here, had a desire to take a view of Elm street. You will pardon the intrusion, I trust.” And she moved toward the door.
“Winnie,” said Alan gently, “you entered to please yourself, and you are very welcome here. Will you remain just five minutes, to please me?”
Winnie frowned visibly, but after a moment’s hesitation, said:
“I think I may spare you five minutes. You may go, Millie.”
And Millie, only too thankful to escape thus, went with absurd alacrity.
When the door had closed behind her,—for, retreating under Alan’s eye, the fluttered damsel had remembered to close the door properly—Winnie stood very erect and silent before her host, and waited.
“Winnie,” began Alan, consulting his watch as he spoke, “it is now almost three o’clock, and I expect a visitor soon; that is why I asked for only a few moments.”