"You must simply be kind to her."
"And leave the rest to you?"
"Leave the rest to _her_," said Kate disappearing.
It came back then afresh to that, as it had come before. Milly, three
minutes after Kate had gone, returned in her array--her big black hat,
so little superstitiously in the fashion, her fine black garments
throughout, the swathing of her throat, which Densher vaguely took for
an infinite number of yards of priceless lace, and which, its folded
fabric kept in place by heavy rows of pearls, hung down to her feet
like the stole of a priestess. He spoke to her at once of their
friend's visit and flight. "She hadn't known she'd find me," he
said--and said at present without difficulty. He had so rounded his
corner that it wasn't a question of a word more or less.
She took this account of the matter as quite sufficient; she glossed
over whatever might be awkward. "I'm sorry--but I of course often see
_her_." He felt the discrimination in his favour and how it justified
Kate. This was Milly's tone when the matter was left to her. Well, it
should now be wholly left.