Millicent accompanied Mrs. Keith to Sandymere in a troubled mood; and dinner was a trying function. She sat next to Foster, and she found it hard to smile at his jokes; and she noticed that Blake was unusually quiet. It was his last evening in England.
When they went into the drawing-room Challoner sat talking with her for a while, and then she was asked to sing. An hour passed before Blake had an opportunity for exchanging a word with her.
“They’ll make you sing again if you stay here,” he said softly.
She understood that he wanted her to himself, and she thrilled at something in his voice.
“You’re interested in Eastern brasswork, I think?” he went on.
“I hardly know,” said Millicent. “I haven’t seen much of it.”
She was vexed with herself for her prudish weakness. An opportunity th
