“Very,” answered Lady Cantourne, in a voice rather suggestive of humouring a child's admiration of a new toy; “very nice indeed.”
“And all so quickly!” pursued Millicent. “Only a few months--not two years, you know. Of course, at first, the time went horribly slow; but afterwards, when one got accustomed to it, life became tolerable. You did not expect me to sit and mope all day, did you, Jack?”
“No, of course not,” replied Jack; and quite suddenly, as in a flash, he saw his former self, and wondered vaguely whether he would get back to that self.
Lady Cantourne was rather thoughtful at that moment. She could not help coming back and back to Sir John.
“Of course,” she said to Jack, “we must let your father know at once. The news must not reach him from an outside source.”
“If it did,” he said, “I do not think the 'outside source' would get much satisfaction out of him.”
“Probably not; but I was not thinking of the 'outside source' or the outside effect. I was thinking of his feelings,” replied Lady Cantourne rather sharply. She had lately fallen into the habit of not sparing Millicent very much; and that young lady, bright and sweet and good-natured, had not failed to notice it. Indeed, she had spoken of it to several people--to partners at dances and others. She attributed it to approaching old age.
“I will write and tell him,” said Jack quietly.
Lady Cantourne raised her eyebrows slightly, but made no spoken comment.
“I think,” she said, after a little pause, “that Millicent ought to write too.”
Millicent shuddered prettily. She was dimly conscious that her handwriting--of an exaggerated size, executed with a special broad-pointed pen purchasable in only one shop in Regent Street--was not likely to meet with his approval. A letter written thus--two words to a line--on note-paper that would have been vulgar had it not been so very novel, was sure to incur prejudice before it was fully unfolded by a stuffy, old-fashioned person.
“I will try,” she said; “but you know, auntie dear, I CANNOT write a long explanatory letter. There never seems to be time, does there? Besides, I am afraid Sir John disapproves of me. I don't know why; I'm sure I have tried”--which was perfectly true.