Gussy looked at him with a little surprise. He was so perfectly composed and unmoved, evidently quite unaware of the interpretation that had been placed on his change of purpose. She was not in love with him in the very least, and yet it was a shock to her vanity to see how unconscious he was of the supposed reason. “He might have complimented and made belief a little,” she said to herself; “there is no need for being so deadly sincere.” “How odd that you should have to do anything like that,” she said aloud; “it is like one of our expedients; but you can do just as you like, at least Helena tells us so, and I suppose men can----” “I don’t think men can,” said Edgar, laughing; “at least not men like myself. The fact was, I had a guest whom I did not wish to keep any longer. You must be kind, and not betray me.” “Certainly,” said Gussy with promptitude, opening her eyes wide at the same time in wonder at such a confession. “Don’t be angry with me,” she resumed; “I do so like to know everything about my friends. Do tell me! Was it Arthur Arden? Mamma would scold me dreadfully for asking; but I should so like to know. There, don’t tell me any more. I can see it was by your eyes. I know some people don’t like him; but he is very nice. I think you might have let him stay.” “Do you think he is very nice?” said Edgar, who was, as she had divined, very fond of Gussy, though not (according to her own dialect) in _that_ way. “Yes,” said Gussy, jumping by instinct into the heart of the question. “The thing is, you know--but you serious people cannot understand--that he never _means_ anything. He is very attentive, and all that. It is his way with girls. He makes you think there never was any one like you, and that he never had such an opinion of anybody before, and all that; but he never means anything. Even mamma says so. A very young girl might be taken in; but we all know that he means nothing, and I assure you he is very nice.” “I don’t understand how such a man can be very nice,” said Edgar, with subdued annoyance, for he did not quite like the idea that Gussy herself should have gone through this discipline or made such a discovery. “I like people who mean more and not less than they say.” “That is all very well, Mr. Arden, in most matters,” said Gussy, with a little hesitation and a momentary blush. (“I wonder if _he_ means anything?” she was asking herself; but Edgar was looking at her with the simplest straightforwardness and making no pretences.) “But, you know, when it is only just the common chatter of society---- Well, why should everybody be so dreadfully sincere? People may just as well be agreeable. I am not standing up for flirting or that sort of thing. But still, you know, when you are quite sure that nothing is meant----”