“To stay with me?” “If I live with you, I ought to obey you.” “If that’s your theory, it’s certainly mine,” said the Doctor, with a dry laugh. “But if I don’t obey you, I ought not to live with you—to enjoy your kindness and protection.” This striking argument gave the Doctor a sudden sense of having underestimated his daughter; it seemed even more than worthy of a young woman who had revealed the quality of unaggressive obstinacy. But it displeased him—displeased him deeply, and he signified as much. “That idea is in very bad taste,” he said. “Did you get it from Mr. Townsend?” “Oh no; it’s my own!” said Catherine eagerly. “Keep it to yourself, then,” her father answered, more than ever determined she should go to Europe. XXIII IF Morris Townsend was not to be included in this journey, no more was Mrs. Penniman, who would have been thankful for an invitation, but who (to do her justice) bore her disappointment in a perfectly ladylike manner. “I should enjoy seeing the works of Raphael and the ruins—the ruins of the Pantheon,” she said to Mrs. Almond; “but, on the other hand, I shall not be sorry to be alone and at peace for the next few months in Washington Square. I want rest; I have been through so much in the last four months.” Mrs. Almond thought it rather cruel that her brother should not take poor Lavinia abroad; but she easily understood that, if the purpose of his expedition was to make Catherine forget her lover, it was not in his interest to give his daughter this young man’s best friend as a companion. “If Lavinia had not been so foolish, she might visit the ruins of the Pantheon,” she said to herself; and she continued to regret her sister’s folly, even though the latter assured her that she had often heard the relics in question most satisfactorily described by Mr. Penniman. Mrs. Penniman was perfectly aware that her brother’s motive in undertaking a foreign tour was to lay a trap for Catherine’s constancy; and she imparted this conviction very frankly to her niece. “He thinks it will make you forget Morris,” she said (she always called the young man “Morris” now); “out of sight, out of mind, you know. He thinks that all the things you will see over there will drive him out of your thoughts.” Catherine looked greatly alarmed. “If he thinks that, I ought to tell him beforehand.” Mrs. Penniman shook her head. “Tell him afterwards, my dear! After he has had all the trouble and the expense! That’s the way to serve him.” And she added, in a softer key, that it must be delightful to think of those who love us among the ruins of the Pantheon.