After Max had gathered the reins in his hands,
had balanced the whip, had settled himself comfortably
and with a wave of his hand to Lucy had
driven off, Mrs. Coates slipped her arm through my
lady's and the two slowly sauntered to their rooms.
"Charming man, is he not?" Mrs. Coates ventured.
"Such a pity he is not married! You know
I often wonder whom such men will marry. Some
pretty school-girl, perhaps, or prim woman of forty."
Lucy laughed.
"No," she answered, "you are wrong. The
bread-and-butter miss would never suit Max, and he's
past the eye-glass and side-curl age. The next phase,
if he ever reaches it, will be somebody who will
make him do--not as he pleases, but as SHE pleases.
A man like Max never cares for a woman any length
of time who humors his whims."
"Well, he certainly was most attentive to that
pretty Miss Billeton. You remember her father was
lost overboard four years ago from his yacht. Mr.
Coates told me he met her only a day or so ago; she
had come down to look after the new ball-room they
are adding to the old house. You know her, don't
you?"
"No--never heard of her. How old is she?"
rejoined Lucy in a careless tone.
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