"That poor creature had countless sisters," was Miss Milbrey's comment to Percival. And they fell together once more in deciding whether, after all, the brightest women ever cease to believe that men are influenced most by surface beauties. They fired each other's enthusiasm for expressing opinions, and they took the opinions very seriously. Yet of their meeting, to an observer, their talk would have seemed the part least worth recording.
Twice Percival caught Shepler's regard bent upon them. It amused him to think he detected signs of uneasiness back of the survey, cool, friendly, and guarded as it was on the surface.
At parting, later, Percival spoke for the first time to Miss Milbrey of her engagement.
"You must know that I wish you all the happiness you hope for yourself; and if I were as lucky in love as Mr. Shepler has been, I surely would never dare to gamble in anything else--you know the saying."
"And you, Mr. Bines. I've been hearing so much of your marriage. I hope the rumour I heard to-day is true, that your engagement has been announced."
"Come, now! That's all gossip, you know; not a word of truth in it, and it's been very annoying to us both. Please demolish that rumour on my authority next time you hear it, thoroughly, so they can make nothing out of the pieces."
Miss Milbrey showed genuine disappointment.
"The only member of that household I could marry is not suited to my age."
"No, not so very old. Still, she's going on five, and you know how time flies--and so much disparity in our ages--twenty-one years or so; no, she was no wife for me, although I don't mind confessing that there has been an affair between us, but--really you can't imagine what a frivolous and trifling creature she is."
Miss Milbrey laughed now, rather painfully he fancied.
"You mean the baby? Isn't she a little dear?"
"I'll tell you something, just between us--the baby's mother is--well, I like her--but she's a joke. That's all, a joke."
"I beg your pardon for talking of it. It had seemed so definite. They're waiting for me--good night--_so_ glad to have seen you--and, nevertheless, she's a very _practical_ joke!"
He watched her with frank, utter longing, as she moved over to Mrs. Oldaker, tender, girlish, appealing, with the old air of timid wistfulness, kept guard over by her woman's knowledge. His fingers still curved, as if they were loth to forget the clasp of her warm, firm little hand. She was gowned in white fleece, and she wore one pink rose where she could bend her blue eyes down upon it.