Grandcourt hesitated; but that he would have done after any proposition. It was an awkward situation for him. No gentleman, before marriage, could give the emphasis of refusal to a command delivered in this playful way. He rode on slowly, and she waited till Deronda came up. He looked at her with tacit inquiry, and she said at once, letting her horse go alongside of his, “Mr. Deronda, you must enlighten my ignorance. I want to know why you thought it wrong for me to gamble. Is it because I am a woman?” “Not altogether; but I regretted it the more because you were a woman,” said Deronda, with an irrepressible smile. Apparently it must be understood between them now that it was he who sent the necklace. “I think it would be better for men not to gamble. It is a besotting kind of taste, likely to turn into a disease. And, besides, there is something revolting to me in raking a heap of money together, and internally chuckling over it, when others are feeling the loss of it. I should even call it base, if it were more than an exceptional lapse. There are enough inevitable turns of fortune which force us to see that our gain is another’s loss:—that is one of the ugly aspects of life. One would like to reduce it as much as one could, not get amusement out of exaggerating it.” Deronda’s voice had gathered some indignation while he was speaking. “But you do admit that we can’t help things,” said Gwendolen, with a drop in her tone. The answer had not been anything like what she had expected. “I mean that things are so in spite of us; we can’t always help it that our gain is another’s loss.” “Clearly. Because of that, we should help it where we can.” Gwendolen, biting her lip inside, paused a moment, and then forcing herself to speak with an air of playfulness again, said, “But why should you regret it more because I am a woman?” “Perhaps because we need that you should be better than we are.” “But suppose _we_ need that men should be better than we are,” said Gwendolen with a little air of “check!” “That is rather a difficulty,” said Deronda, smiling. “I suppose I should have said, we each of us think it would be better for the other to be good.” “You see, I needed you to be better than I was—and you thought so,” said Gwendolen, nodding and laughing, while she put her horse forward and joined Grandcourt, who made no observation. “Don’t you want to know what I had to say to Mr. Deronda?” said Gwendolen, whose own pride required her to account for her conduct. “A—no,” said Grandcourt, coldly. “Now that is the first impolite word you have spoken—that you don’t wish to hear what I had to say,” said Gwendolen, playing at a pout. “I wish to hear what you say to me—not to other men,” said Grandcourt. “Then you wish to hear this. I wanted to make him tell me why he objected to my gambling, and he gave me a little sermon.”