She expressed it as the poor lady's other critic had done, but this didn't shut my mouth. "Ah, then, in spite of the people, you did notice. What do you mean by 'all over the place'?" "She couldn't keep still. She was different from the woman one had last seen. She used to be so calm--as if she were always sitting for her portrait. Wasn't she in fact always being painted in a pink frock and one row of pearls, always staring out at you in exhibitions, as if she were saying 'Here they are again'? Last night she was on the rush." "The rush? Oh!" "Yes, positively--from one man to another. She was on the pounce. She talked to ten in succession, making up to them in the most extraordinary way and leaving them still more crazily. She's as nervous as a cat. Put it to any man here, and see if he doesn't tell you." "I should think it quite unpleasant to put it to any man here," I returned; "and I should have been sure you would have thought it the same. I spoke to you in the deepest confidence." Mrs. Brissenden's look at me was for a moment of the least accommodating; then it changed to an intelligent smile. "How you _are_ protecting her! But don't cry out," she added, "before you're hurt. Since your confidence has distinguished me--though I don't quite see why--you may be sure I haven't breathed. So I all the more resent your making me a scene on the extraordinary ground that I've observed as well as yourself. Perhaps what you don't like is that my observation may be turned on _you_. I confess it is." It was difficult to bear being put in the wrong by her, but I made an effort that I believe was not unsuccessful to recover my good humour. "It's not in the least to your observation that I object, it's to the extravagant inferences you draw from it. Of course, however, I admit I always want to protect the innocent. What does she gain, on your theory, by her rushing and pouncing? Had she pounced on Brissenden when we met him with her? Are you so very sure he hadn't pounced on _her_? They had, at all events, to me, quite the air of people settled; she was not, it was clear, at that moment meditating a change. It was we, if you remember, who had absolutely to pull them apart." "Is it your idea to make out," Mrs. Brissenden inquired in answer to this, "that she has suddenly had the happy thought of a passion for my husband?" A new possibility, as she spoke, came to me with a whirr of wings, and I half expressed it. "She may have a sympathy." My interlocutress gazed at space. "You mean she may be sorry for him? On what ground?" I had gone too far indeed; but I got off as I could. "You neglect him so! But what is she, at any rate," I went on, "nervous--as nervous as you describe her--_about_?"