to be little short of quixotic.

During the walk home he tried Cardington on the subject of Emmet, but
found him uncommunicative, almost brusque, in his reticence. Leigh
suspected that the subject might be a sore one with him, and that he
thoroughly disapproved of Miss Wycliffe's odd charity. When a talker
is silent, his silence has the tactile quality of Egyptian darkness,
and so it now appeared in Cardington. Concerning Miss Wycliffe herself
they made no comment, doubtless because they were thinking of her so
intently. Leigh reviewed every moment he had passed in her company,
recalling each look and word. He was impressed now, more than he had
been at the time, with the intensity of her interest in the election,
and it occurred to him that to do as she desired, or at least to
attempt it, would establish a claim upon her regard. This was his
opportunity. If he desired to win her favour, he must regard her wish
as mandatory. How much he desired to win it he did not try to conceal
from himself.

His frankness extended even farther. When he recalled that it was the
bishop and not his daughter who had shown humanity at the wedding, he
was impressed by her curious insensibility. It seemed to him
peculiarly feminine to take an interest in such a scene, and most of
the women he knew would have looked on with tremulous sympathy. Was
this mere instinctive selfishness on her part? If he vaguely condemned
her attitude in this matter, he appreciated her father's conduct the
more by contrast. Somehow he guessed that the bishop did not
altogether like him, but he felt that no matter what the future might
bring forth in their relationship, he could never forget that charming
episode. The bishop was a true aristocrat, he reflected, more inclined
to be haughty to his equals than to his inferiors. Doubtless Emmet,
had he been content with that station of life in which it had pleased
God to place him, would have found no more affable acquaintance than
Bishop Wycliffe.

The bishop presented no insoluble riddle to Leigh's mind. On the
contrary, he had met his type before and knew it well; but with Miss
Wycliffe the case was different. He recognized now the reason of
Cardington's inability to describe her, for a categorical account of
her features, or of what is commonly called her "good points," would
have left the essential quality untouched. Yet this quality was the
woman herself, and had fired Leigh's blood with a