THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
He hesitated. "Mrs. Lowder's?"
"No. I don't call Mrs. Lowder's the best."
"Oh, I thought you were just now saying," he laughed, "that everything about her is so good."
"Good for you"—she was perfectly clear. "For you," she went on, "let her authority be the best. She doesn't believe what you mention, and you must know yourself how little she makes of it. So you can take it from her. I take it———" But Milly, with the positive tremor of her emphasis, pulled up.
"You take it from Kate?"
"From Kate herself."
"That she's thinking of no one at all?"
"Of no one at all." Then, with her intensity, she went on. "She has given me her word for it."
"Oh!" said Lord Mark. To which he next added: "And what do you call her word?"
It made Milly, on her side, stare—though perhaps partly but with the instinct of gaining time for the consciousness that she was already a little further "in" than she had designed. "Why, Lord Mark, what should you call her word?"
"Ah, I'm not obliged to say. I've not asked her. You apparently have."
Well, it threw her on her defence—a defence that she felt, however, as especially of Kate. "We're very intimate," she said in a moment; "so that, without prying into each other's affairs, she naturally tells me things."
Lord Mark smiled as at a lame conclusion.
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