"Well, I don't think I've ever come to it—to 'ease' of treatment.
I doubt if it's possible.
I've not, if it is, found any one bad enough.
The ease, you see, is for you."
"I see—I see."
They had an odd friendly, but perhaps the least bit awkward pause on it; after which Sir Luke asked:
"And that clever lady—she goes with you?"
"Mrs. Stringham?
Oh dear, yes.
She'll stay with me, I hope, to the end."
He had a cheerful blankness.
"To the end of what?"
"Well—of everything."
"Ah then," he laughed, "you're in luck. The end of everything is far off.
This, you know, I'm hoping," said Sir Luke, "is only the beginning." And the next question he risked might have been a part of his hope. "Just you and she together?"
"No, two other friends; two ladies of whom we've seen more here than of any one and who are just the right people for us."
He thought a moment.
"You'll be four women together then?"
"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."
Sir Luke wondered.
"You mean they're lovers?"
"He is," Milly smiled; "but not she.
She doesn't care for him."
Sir Luke took an interest. "What's the matter with him?"
"Nothing but that she doesn't like him."
Sir Luke kept it up.
"Is he all right?"
"Oh he's very nice.
Indeed he's remarkably so."
"And he's to be in Venice?"
"So she tells me she fears.
For if he is there he'll be constantly about with her."
"And she'll be constantly about with you?"
"As we're great friends—yes."
"Well then," said Sir Luke, "you won't be four women alone."