And Millicent, for her outward imperturbability of manner, was annoyedly conscious that Miss Haldane had scored.
And then Anne walked in.
“Am I interrupting confidences?” she asked, with an attempt at her usual lightness of manner. “Dickie is a fraud; he is demanding bread and jam, or at least toast and honey. I consider he has basely deceived us all.”
And then she saw that the atmosphere was really strained, tense. She pretended blindness, however, and, sitting down, asked for some tea. While drinking it she made a few airy remarks, to which Miss Haldane responded absent-mindedly, and Millicent with a pained and almost holy silence.
Then Millicent got up. “I am going to see Dickie,” she said.
As the door closed behind her, Miss Haldane gave a sigh of relief.
“How I dislike that woman!” she said.
“I saw she had ruffled you,” said Anne soothingly.
“She was impertinent,” remarked Miss Haldane with dignity.
“Millicent! Impertinent!” Anne’s eyes were big with amazement. “My dear Matty!” She might be many things, but impertinent seemed the last word to connect with the large statuesque Millicent.