ntion nowadays. I don't suppose you need reminding
that we dine at Sandymere to-morrow."

Millicent made no reply, and as she seemed rather overwhelmed by her
employer's frankness, the latter took pity on her.

"You might ask Foster for the review he promised me, but you can send
it up instead of coming back," she said, and added as Millicent turned
away: "Think over what I told you."

The recommendation was superfluous, because Millicent thought of
nothing else. She knew Blake was her lover and believed she understood
why he had not declared himself. Now he might go away without speaking
if she let him. Mrs. Keith's blunt candour left her no excuse for
shirking the truth; she loved the man, but it was hateful to feel that
she must make the first advances and reveal her tenderness for him.
She said she could not do so and yet vacillated, for the alternative
was worse.

CHAPTER XXXII

HARDING STRIKES OIL

Next evening Millicent accompanied Mrs. Keith to Sandymere in a
troubled mood. Dinner was a trying function, because she sat next to
Foster, who talked in a humorous strain and expected her to appreciate
his jokes. She found it hard to smile at the right moment and noticed
that Blake was unusually quiet. It was his last evening in England.

When they went into the drawing-room Challoner engaged her in
conversation for a time and she was afterwards asked to sing. An hour
passed before Blake had an opportunity of exchanging a word with her,
and then Miss Challoner was sitting close by.

"They'll make you sing again if you stop here," he said softly.

She understood that he wanted her to himself and thrilled at something
in his voice, but instead of complying she asked: "Don't you wish me
to?"

"Yes, of course," he answered lamely and was silent for a few moments.
Then he resumed: "You're interested in Eastern brasswork, I think?"

"I hardly know," said Millicent. "I haven't seen much of it."

She was vexed with herself for her prudish weakness. An opportunity
that might never be repeated was offered her, and she could not muster
the courage to seize it. Blake, however, did not seem daunted.

"You said you were delighted with the things my uncle showed you when
you were last here and a friend has just sent him a fresh lot from
Benares." He gave her an appealing look. "It struck me you might like
to see them."

"Yes," said Millicent with forced calm; "I really think I would."

"Will you