It would not have been “the thing” under the circumstances that any one of the trio should glance at Julian; consequently no one noticed the curious flash of expression that passed across his face as his mother spoke. Maud Pomeroy hesitated and looked dutifully at her mother.
“It’s very kind of Mrs. Romayne, Maud, dear, isn’t it?” said Mrs. Pomeroy with noncommittal amiability.
“It is sweet of her,” responded Maud prettily.
“Well, then, do let us consider it settled. I shall enjoy it of all things. When do you go, dear Mrs. Pomeroy? To-morrow week? Oh, it will be too tantalising to whisk Maud away when she had just begun to enjoy herself; wouldn’t it, Maud?”
Miss Pomeroy hesitated again, and the colour on her cheeks deepened by just a shade. She did not glance at her mother this time.
“Thank you very much,” she said at last. “But shan’t I be a nuisance to you?”
There was just the touch of charmingly conventional demur in her tone which made her submission seem, as all her actions seemed, the result of a gentle, easily influenced temperament. Mrs. Romayne assured her merrily that she would indeed be a terrible nuisance, but that she herself would do her best to bear it, and then rose, her eyes very bright.
“I must run away now,” she said. “I’m so delighted that we’ve settled it. Let me know when to expect you, then, dear. Good-bye, Mrs. Pomeroy; I’ll take every care of your child and return her when you want her—only don’t let it be too soon! I needn’t take you away, sir,” she continued, turning to Julian. He had been standing by ever since that flash had passed over his face with an expression of eager interest in the discussion. “I dare say you’re not in any hurry. No, you need not even come downstairs with me. I see Mr. Loring. He’ll take care of me, I’m sure.”
Mr. Loring, who was within hearing, as the tone of the words implied—indeed, they were more than half addressed to him—came up promptly.
“For how long may I have that privilege?” he said.