"What?" he said, stopping her before she got further. "Insolent? to whom?"
"To . . ." Meg hesitated. "To life," she said abruptly. "She says things that I could hit her for saying. Freddy, do squash her!—she suggests something nasty with every word she utters."
"I'll try and flirt with her—won't that do?"
"No, don't, Freddy!" Fear clutched at Meg's heart; the woman in her trembled for her brother. Millicent was so fair, so tempting; Freddy was young and, Meg thought, ignorant of the wiles of women.
"You'd rather I did than Mike?" Freddy's eyes laughed as he watched the blush rise to his sister's cheeks. It made her extraordinarily attractive—indeed, fighting seemed to suit Meg. He pinched her arm; they were close pals, tried chums. "I know your secret, Meg—I've had eyes for other things than the tomb!"
"Do you mind, Freddy?" Meg slipped her arm through her brother's; her eyes shone with happiness.
Freddy pressed her arm close to his side. Meg loved him for it. "If I'd minded I shouldn't have let things go so far, should I? I could have packed you off home."
"You've been a darling, Freddy, and I'm so happy! I never knew anything could be so perfect. I sound silly, don't I?"
"No. Mike's one of the very best, Meg. But you'll have to look after him a bit." Freddy's voice was graver.
"How do you mean, Freddy?" Meg at once thought of Mrs. Mervill.
Freddy read her thoughts in her voice.