THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
Susan Shepherd appeared to wander from this into a slight confusion. "Which of them are you talking of?"
Milly wondered an instant—then had a light. "I'm not talking of Mr. Densher." With which moreover she showed amusement. "Though if you can be comfortable about Mr. Densher too, so much the better."
"Oh, you meant Sir Luke Strett? Certainly, he's a fine type. Do you know," Susie continued, "whom he reminds me of? Of our great man—Dr. Buttrick of Boston."
Milly recognised Dr. Buttrick of Boston, but she dropped him after a tributary pause. "What do you think, now that you've seen him, of Mr. Densher?"
It was not till after consideration, with her eyes fixed on her friend's, that Susie produced her answer. "I think he's very handsome."
Milly remained smiling at her, though putting on a little the manner of a teacher with a pupil. "Well, that will do for the first time. I have done," she went on, "what I wanted."
"Then that's all we want. You see there are plenty of things."
Milly shook her head for the "plenty." "The best is not to know—that includes them all. I don't—I don't know. Nothing about anything except that you're with me. Remember that, please. There won't be anything that, on my side, for you, I shall forget. So it's all right."
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