"She is only _too_ kind. You can feel that she's determined to be so--that she's said she will have nothing to reproach herself with, and she won't. You don't suppose Mrs. Bowen would be unkind to any one she disliked?" "Ah, I didn't know," sighed Colville. "The more she disliked them, the better she would use them. It's because our engagement is so distasteful to her that she's determined to feel that she did nothing to oppose it." "But how can you tell that it's distasteful, then?" "She lets you feel it by--not saying anything about it." "I can't see how--" "She never speaks of you. I don't believe she ever mentions your name. She asks me about the places where I've been, and about the people--every one but you. It's very uncomfortable." "Yes," said Colville, "it's uncomfortable." "And if I allude to letters from home, she merely presses her lips together. It's perfectly wretched." "I see. It's I whom she dislikes, and I would do anything to please her. She must know that," mused Colville aloud. "Imogene!" he exclaimed, with a sudden inspiration. "Why shouldn't I go away?" "Go away?" she palpitated. "What should I do?" The colours faded from his brilliant proposal. "Oh, I only meant till something was settled--determined--concluded; till this terrible suspense was over." He added hopelessly, "But nothing can be done!" "I proposed," said Imogene, "that we should all go away. I suggested Via Reggio--the doctor said she ought to have sea air--or Venice; but she wouldn't hear of it. No; we must wait." "Yes, we must wait," repeated Colville hollowly. "Then nothing can be done?" "Why, haven't you said it?" "Oh yes--yes. I can't go away, and you can't. But couldn't we do something--get up something?" "I don't know what you mean." "I mean, couldn't we--amuse her somehow? help her to take her mind off herself?" Imogene stared at him rather a long time. Then, as if she had satisfied herself in her own mind, she shook her head. "She wouldn't submit to it." "No; she seems to take everything amiss that I do," said Colville. "She has no right to do that," cried Imogene. "I'm sure that you're always considering her, and proposing to do things for her. I won't let you humble yourself, as if you had wronged her." "Oh, I don't call it humbling. I--I should only be too happy if I could do _anything_ that was agreeable to her." "Very well, I will tell her," said the girl haughtily. "Shall you object to my joining you in your amusements, whatever they are? I assure you I will be very unobtrusive." "I don't understand all this," replied Colville. "Who has proposed to exclude you? Why did you tell me anything about Mrs. Bowen if you didn't want me to say or do something? I supposed you did; but I'll withdraw the offensive proposition, whatever it was." "There was nothing offensive. But if you pity her so much, why can't you pity me a little?" "I didn't know anything was the matter with you. I thought you were enjoying yourself----"