“Did you meet Miss Gage?” she asked. “Yes,” I returned, with tremulous expectation. “Well, don’t you think she looks perfectly divine in that gown? It’s one of Mme. Cody’s, and we got it for thirty dollars. It would have been fifty in New York, and it was, here, earlier in the season. I shall always come here for some of my things; as soon as the season’s a little past they simply _fling_ them away. Well, my dear!” “Well, what?” “I didn’t speak to her after all.” “You didn’t! Don’t you think she’s in love with him, then?” “Dead.” “Well?” “Well, I couldn’t somehow seem to approach the subject as I had expected to. She was so happy, and so good, and so perfectly obedient, that I couldn’t get anything to take hold of. You see, I didn’t know but she might be a little rebellious, or resentful of my interference; but in the little gingerly attempts I did make she was so submissive, don’t you understand? And she was very modest about Mr. Kendricks’ attentions, and so self-depreciatory that, well—” “Look here, Isabel,” I broke in, “this is pretty shameless of you. You pretend to be in the greatest kind of fidge about this girl; and you make me lie awake all night thinking what you’re going to say to her; and now you as much as tell me you were so fascinated with the modest way she was in love that you couldn’t say anything to her against being in love on our hands in any sort of way. Do you call this business?” “Well, I don’t care if I _did_ encourage her—” “Oh, you even encouraged her!” “I _didn’t_ encourage her. I merely praised Mr. Kendricks, and said how much you thought of him as a writer.” “Oh! then you gave the subject a literary cast. I see! Do you think Miss Gage was able to follow you?” “That doesn’t matter.” “And what do you propose to do now?” “I propose to do nothing. I think that I have done all my duty requires, and that now I can leave the whole affair to you. It was your affair in the beginning. I don’t see why I should worry myself about it.” “It seems to me that this is a very strange position for a lady to take who was not going to close an eye last night in view of a situation which has not changed in the least, except for the worse. Don’t you think you are rather culpably light-hearted all of a sudden?” “I am light-hearted, but if there is any culpability it is yours, Basil.” I reflected, but I failed to find any novelty in the fact. “Very well, then; what do you propose that I should do?” “I leave that entirely to your own conscience.” “And if my conscience has no suggestion to make?” “That’s your affair.” I reflected again, and then I said, more than anything to make her uncomfortable, I’m afraid: “I feel perfectly easy in my conscience, personally, but I have a social duty in the matter, and I hope I shall perform it with more fidelity and courage than you have shown. I shall speak to Kendricks.”