“He was speaking,” I continued, “of women as a domestic institution. No home, he said, was complete without one. Considered decoratively, she gave an air of brightness——”
Bassishaw must have been as busy in his pedipulations as an organist, for Caroline peremptorily held out her glass to be replenished. I continued:
“As a companion, he said, much could be forgiven her. And she had admirable managing gifts.”
Millicent bowed across the flowers.
“The sex thanks you, Arthur,” she said. “It is quite the proper point of view for a young man. As for this belated bachelor,”—myself—“he never did, nor ever will, think rightly on the subject.”
Bassishaw looked at me reproachfully.
“I didn’t mean—what you think I meant,” he said uncomfortably.
“Forgive me. You meant much more than I say I think you meant.”
“I meant—I meant——” he replied; and then, apologetically, “well, you are getting on, you know, and you’ve missed so much, really, Rollo. If you like being alone——A man who’s never—you don’t mind my saying it?—well, he doesn’t know, that’s all.”
Bassishaw subsided rather incoherently, but applied himself to his plate with conviction. I looked at Millicent, who glanced sidelong fun under her lids.