their money's worth. She had been educated and given an attractive polish for one purpose—to attract and wed a suitable man of a like education and polish. Being honest to the backbone she was distressed about it. She had not fulfilled her side of the contract, and her parents had, to the best of their belief, more than fulfilled theirs.
She avoided the drawing-room where there was tea and chatter, and hurried to her room, which Noel called "The Nunnery," because of its austere simplicity. The white walls, quaint bits of furniture, and stiff little bed suggested the sixteenth century. The rest of the house was Millicent's affair, and was "done" every few years in the prevailing mode by a well-known firm of decorators.
Noel wandered into her room soon after she reached it, and while she took off her hat and coat, he sat on the foot of the bed, which, if any one else had done it, would have seriously annoyed her.
"How's Claire?" he asked.
"Wonderful as ever. She's got more common sense, Noel, than the rest of the family put together. What do you think? She's heard about Aunt Connie, through 'Old Stephen.' He saw her in Cannes."
