“I suppose,” she was saying, “now that Caroline’s gone, he must. I know
that Cicely Vicars told me you can do what you like with a man who feels
a little bit sorry for himself, Millicent. _She did._”
This seemed somehow to concern me. I had doubtless felt somewhat low,
but had no idea I had showed it so plainly as that. Anyway, Cicely
Vicars doubtless knew. Millicent replied:
“I don’t think it’s fair, Mollie, to talk like that. Rollo Butterfield
isn’t a fool; and I daresay Charlie Vicars isn’t such a fool as he
was--then.”
Thank you, dear lady.
“He isn’t a fool,” Mrs. Loring replied; “but I do call it
criminal--simply criminal--that a man who is getting older
and--fatter--every week should keep putting off and putting off for no
reason at all except that he’s ashamed to give in after so long. It’s
rank breach of promise. _I_ know Rollo Butterfield.”
These were hard words to hear of one’s self. Apparently Mrs. Loring’s
one desire was that that presence of mine--fat, hang her
impudence!--should hold decently together through a marriage service,
and run to seedy corpulence immediately afterwards for all she cared.
But Millicent vindicated me nobly.
“If Rollo Butterfield, Mollie, was prepared to marry me to keep me in
countenance with all the people we know, I’d never let him propose to
me--which he hasn’t done, by the way. But you don’t understand him a
little bit. He’s not much fatter, my dear, saving your presence, than
Loring; and, any way, he’ll be a young man when Loring’s--you understand
me. And you can’t say very much more to me on the subject, Mollie.”
“You’ll have to propose to him yourself, then, Millie,” said Mrs.
Loring, with a worldly shrug.
“I should not be afraid to do that,” Millicent retorted defiantly.
“I should like to be there when it happened.” Mrs. Loring’s tone
expressed the most offhand incredulity in the affair being ever
definitely settled. There was a silence as they approached and
discovered my presence.
Now, I had never been in the least resentful of Mrs. Loring Chatterton’s
self-arrogated responsibility for my welfare and Millicent’s--it had
always been too open and frank to be regarded as interference. But in
that moment she had given me a hint that I felt half inclined to act
upon. Suppose she really were there when it happened?