Wherever the one was invited, the other was considered to be in demand; and Millicent found herself face to face with a huge difficulty.
Sir John was distinctly in the way.

He had a keener eye than the majority of young men, and occasionally exercised the old man's privilege of saying outright things which, despite theory, are better left unsaid.

Moreover, the situation was ill-defined, and an ill-defined situation does not improve in the keeping.

Sir John said sharp things--too sharp even for Millicent--and, in addition to the original grudge begotten of his quarrel with Jack and its result, the girl nourished an ever-present feeling of resentment at a persistency in misunderstanding her of which she shrewdly suspected the existence.
Perhaps the worst of it was that Sir John never said anything which could be construed into direct disapproval.

He merely indicated, in passing, the possession of a keen eyesight coupled with the embarrassing faculty of adding together correctly two small numerals.
When, therefore, Millicent allowed herself to be assisted from the carriage at the door of a large midland country house by an eager and lively little French baron of her acquaintance, she was disgusted but not surprised to see a well-known figure leaning gracefully on a billiard-cue in the hall.
"I wish I could think that this pleasure was mutual," said Sir John with his courtliest smile, as he bowed over Millicent's hand.
"It might be," with a coquettish glance.
"If-- ?" "If I were not afraid of you." Sir John turned, smiling, to greet Lady Cantourne.