"Ah," said Milly, "we're widows and orphans. But I think," she added as
if to say what she saw would reassure him, "that we shall not be
unattractive, as we move, to gentlemen. When you talk of 'life' I
suppose you mean mainly gentlemen."
"When I talk of 'life,'" he made answer after a moment during which he
might have been appreciating her raciness--"when I talk of life I think
I mean more than anything else the beautiful show of it, in its
freshness, made by young persons of your age. So go on as you are. I
see more and more _how_ you are. You can't," he went so far as to say
for pleasantness, "better it."
She took it from him with a great show of peace. "One of our companions
will be Miss Croy, who came with me here first. It's in _her_ that life
is splendid; and a part of that is even that she's devoted to me. But
she's above all magnificent in herself. So that if you'd like," she
freely threw out, "to see _her_--"
"Oh I shall like to see any one who's devoted to you, for clearly it
will be jolly to be 'in' it. So that if she's to be at Venice I _shall_
see her?"
"We must arrange it--I shan't fail. She moreover has a friend who may
also be there"--Milly found herself going on to this. "He's likely to
come, I believe, for he always follows her."