“It is my most esteemed privilege,” said Roderick, and waving an adieu with his well-gloved hand, he went on his way to Lady Milmo.
At the corner he looked about for a moment, and not seeing her sat down and waited. He gazed on the soft blue sky and stroked his pointed beard, letting his thoughts wander whither they would.
“I am so sorry, Mr. Usher,” said a voice. He started to, his feet; Lady Milmo and Ella were before him.
“A thousand pardons. I was gathering the wool of sweet and bitter fancy! Oh, no, you are not late, indeed not. Won't you sit? It is somewhat deserted here, but it is more rural than further up; we can talk more freely.”
“I am sure you can talk interestingly anywhere,” said Lady Milmo.
She was a small elderly lady dressed somewhat youthfully. She wore a little rouge, a trifle of black along the eyelashes, and a coquettish straw hat with pink roses and an osprey feather. She seemed thoroughly contented with herself and her surroundings.
“One gets into the habit of talking in the key of one's environment,” said Roderick, reflectively. “Don't you think so, Miss Defries?”
“It is the fault of this social life of ours,” replied Ella. “There are so many affectations and insincerities around us that we are afraid to be genuine.”
“It is a great charm of Lady Milmo and yourself that with you one is bound to be genuine.”
“I do like people to appear just as they are,” smiled Lady Milmo.