And at that moment she wished almost savagely for it to be concealed. Confronted by a choice of evils she made a dash at the less.
"I'm so sorry. I'll be with you in one minute."
Sheer pride forced her tone to a superhuman lightness, verging on gayety. But there was a formidable member of her sex to deal with. In spite of that heroic note, Milly was not to be taken in; she looked at the dissembler with eyes that saw a great deal too much. "I expect you've taken a pretty bad toss, my fine lady," they seemed to say.
"I'll be with you in one minute," repeated Mary, with burning cheeks and a beating heart. But Milly continued to stare. Suddenly she laid impulsive hands on her shoulders and gave her a kiss.
Mary didn't like kissing. Her friend's proneness to the habit always irritated her secretly; this present indulgence in it brought Mary as near to active dislike as it would have been possible for her to get.
Milly went back to the drawing-room seething with an excited curiosity. Before she could make up her mind to follow Mary stood a long moment in black despair; and then "biting on the bullet," as the soldiers say, she went to join the others.
"Naughty girl!" was the arch reception of Mrs. Wren. "I'm very cross. Didn't you promise not to be late? But if you must call before lunch on dukes in Park Lane I suppose people like us will have to take the consequences."
Mary would gladly have given a year's salary for the head of Mrs. Wren on a charger, but Milly intervened
