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perficial exception. ‘Yes, I’ve heard,’ she answered; ‘but as I
don’t want you to go to Rome I won’t tell you.’
‘Just as you please. I shall see for myself,’ he said. Then
inconsistently, for him, ‘You’ve heard she’s unhappy!’ he
added.
‘Oh, you won’t see that!’ Henrietta exclaimed.
‘I hope not. When do you start?’
‘To-morrow, by the evening train. And you?’
Goodwood hung back; he had no desire to make his jour-
ney to Rome in Miss Stackpole’s company. His indifference
to this advantage was not of the same character as Gilbert
Osmond’s, but it had at this moment an equal distinctness.
It was rather a tribute to Miss Stackpole’s virtues than a ref-
erence to her faults. He thought her very remarkable, very
brilliant, and he had, in theory, no objection to the class to
which she belonged. Lady correspondents appeared to him
a part of the natural scheme of things in a progressive coun-
try, and though he never read their letters he supposed that
they ministered somehow to social prosperity. But it was
this very eminence of their position that made him wish
Miss Stackpole didn’t take so much for granted. She took
for granted that he was always ready for some allusion to
Mrs. Osmond; she had done so when they met in Paris, six
weeks after his arrival in Europe, and she had repeated the
assumption with every successive opportunity. He had no
wish whatever to allude to Mrs. Osmond; he was not al-
ways thinking of her; he was perfectly sure of that. He was
the most reserved, the least colloquial of men, and this en-
quiring authoress was constantly flashing her lantern into

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