ood to lack the trained
motive which makes a character fairly calculable in its actions; but by
a roundabout course even a gentleman may make of himself a chancy
personage, raising an uncertainty as to what he may do next, that sadly
spoils companionship.

Grandcourt's thoughts this evening were like the circlets one sees in a
dark pool, continually dying out and continually started again by some
impulse from below the surface. The deeper central impulse came from
the image of Gwendolen; but the thoughts it stirred would be
imperfectly illustrated by a reference to the amatory poets of all
ages. It was characteristic that he got none of his satisfaction from
the belief that Gwendolen was in love with him; and that love had
overcome the jealous resentment which had made her run away from him.
On the contrary, he believed that this girl was rather exceptional in
the fact that, in spite of his assiduous attention to her, she was not
in love with him; and it seemed to him very likely that if it had not
been for the sudden poverty which had come over her family, she would
not have accepted him. From the very first there had been an
exasperating fascination in the tricksiness with which she had--not met
his advances, but--wheeled away from them. She had been brought to
accept him in spite of everything--brought to kneel down like a horse
under training for the arena, though she might have an objection to it
all the while. On the whole, Grandcourt got more pleasure out of this
notion than he could have done out of winning a girl of whom he was
sure that she had a strong inclination for him personally. And yet this
pleasure in mastering reluctance flourished along with the habitual
persuasion that no woman whom he favored could be quite indifferent to
his personal influence; and it seemed to him not unlikely that
by-and-by Gwendolen might be more enamored of him than he of her. In
any case, she would have to submit; and he enjoyed thinking of her as
his future wife, whose pride and spirit were suited to command every
one but himself. He had no taste for a woman who was all tenderness to
him, full of petitioning solicitude and willing obedience. He meant to
be master of a woman who would have liked to master him, and who
perhaps would have been capable of mastering another man.

Lush, having failed in his attempted reminder to Grandcourt, thought it
well to communicate with Sir Hugo, in whom, as a man having perhaps
interest e