with
Rex. She spoke a little, and even laughed, but with a lightness as of a
far-off echo: for her too there was some peculiar quality in the
air--not, she was sure, any subjugation of her will by Mr. Grandcourt,
and the splendid prospects he meant to offer her; for Gwendolen desired
every one, that dignified gentleman himself included, to understand
that she was going to do just as she liked, and that they had better
not calculate on her pleasing them. If she chose to take this husband,
she would have him know that she was not going to renounce her freedom,
or according to her favorite formula, "not going to do as other women
did."

Grandcourt's speeches this morning were, as usual, all of that brief
sort which never fails to make a conversational figure when the speaker
is held important in his circle. Stopping so soon, they give signs of a
suppressed and formidable ability so say more, and have also the
meritorious quality of allowing lengthiness to others.

"How do you like Criterion's paces?" he said, after they had entered
the park and were slacking from a canter to a walk.

"He is delightful to ride. I should like to have a leap with him, if it
would not frighten mamma. There was a good wide channel we passed five
minutes ago. I should like to have a gallop back and take it."

"Pray do. We can take it together."

"No, thanks. Mamma is so timid--if she saw me it might make her ill."

"Let me go and explain. Criterion would take it without fail."

"No--indeed--you are very kind--but it would alarm her too much. I dare
take any leap when she is not by; but I do it and don't tell her about
it."

"We can let the carriage pass and then set off."

"No, no, pray don't think of it any more: I spoke quite randomly," said
Gwendolen; she began to feel a new objection to carrying out her own
proposition.

"But Mrs. Davilow knows I shall take care of you."

"Yes, but she would think of you as having to take care of my broken
neck."

There was a considerable pause before Grandcourt said, looking toward
her, "I should like to have the right always to take care of you."

Gwendolen did not turn her eyes on him; it seemed to her a long while
that she was first blushing, and then turning pale, but to Grandcourt's
rate of judgment she answered soon enough, with the lightest flute-tone
and a careless movement of the head, "Oh, I am not sure that I want to
be taken care of: if I chose to risk breaking my neck, I should