Miss Verinder, watching her thoughtfully, inquired if all these ideas had been prompted by Alwyn himself; and Mildred said no, he was a thousand miles above such considerations. He cared for nothing but her. “Emmeline--as I say, you’re so awfully kind, and I do feel that I need a word of advice from someone older than myself.” At this point of the interview, it was curious to observe in Mildred that mixture of shrewdness and innocence which makes the typical modern girl seem at once so shallow and so baffling. She still playfully tormented the yellow gauntlet gloves; her eyes shone with childish candour; but there was something a little hard and business-like about the red lips that only a moment ago had been pouting petulantly. “My own inclination is to chuck over everything and do something desperate--you know, just to run off with him.” “And marry him without your parents’ consent?” “Or _not_ marry him,” said Mildred, pulling at her gloves. “Mildred!” said Miss Verinder, with a little cry. “What _do_ you mean?” “Well, what I mean,” said Mildred, “is that if they’re so damned old-fashioned, I don’t see why they shouldn’t stew in their own gravy--at least for a bit. Don’t you see? When they find I’m gone, in _that_ way, if they’re really genuine in their feelings, it will be the regular Mid-Victorian business. The lost child--our daughter gone to perdition. Get her married now to the scoundrel that has lured her away. Make her an honest woman at any price--and, by Jove,” said Mildred, with a little ripple of innocent laughter, “I’ll jolly well make them pay the price. You know, no more than is right--the usual. I don’t mean blackmailing them or anything like that.” “Mildred,” said Miss Verinder, with an unexpectedly firm tone of voice, “you and I must talk very seriously. And you must listen to me, dear, and not be impatient if what I urge--Ah, yes.” Interrupted by the opening of the door, she checked herself. It was the faithful maid Louisa--a grey-haired woman older than Miss Verinder, neat yet stately in her black dress and black silk apron; just such an efficient long-tried maid-housekeeper as one would expect such a mistress to have. Louisa was bringing them tea. At sight of her the white cat dropped heavily from its easy chair, stalked forward, and rubbed itself against Miss Verinder’s ankles; while the grey parrot as promptly awoke, flapped its wings, and screamed. Tea meant something to these two dependents. “Look sharp, Louisa,” said the parrot, expressing the wish of both in a gruff monotone. “Look sharp, Louisa. Louisa. Louisa.” Louisa, bringing a collapsible table from the wall, smiled sedately. “He always says that,” Miss Verinder explained. “It was taught to him a long time ago--and with great difficulty. Only as a joke,” she added. “For Louisa is always up to time--very much on the spot, as you young people say.”