," but he
implored her not to describe those awful people at home, and
particularly not to tell him anything about that poisonous Belgian. Then
he told Val that blue didn't suit her, and, when she agreed with him,
petulantly complained that she had no ideas of her own.

"But I had an idea of my own; only now you say it's wrong."

"So it is. But, even if it is wrong, you should stick to it. You should
have more individuality."

"What an awful word," she said.

"What's the matter with the word?"

"Nothing. It's so long."

"You're talking nonsense, Valentia."

"Well, why shouldn't I talk nonsense? I'm sure I've heard you say
there's nothing so depressing as a woman with no nonsense about her."

"I know. But there needn't be nothing else."

"Harry, are you trying to quarrel? If so I'd better go away."

"Oh, all right! Very well! Do as you like," said Harry. "It seems a
curious way to treat a guest: to go out when you expect him, and then
the moment you come in to make an excuse to leave him alone again. But
please yourself!"

He took up his book and turned away.

Valentia went into the house, to her room, and sat down opposite the
looking-glass with a sigh. It was at moments like these that she
sometimes thought, with a slight reaction, of Romer. Romer was never
capricious, never irritable, never trying. It was true that he rarely
answered her except in monosyllables, but yet she knew that he delighted
in and tacitly encouraged her fluency. He did not respond to every idea
she expressed as Harry did (when Harry was in a good temper), but she
knew she had no better audience. His extreme quietness might be
admitted, occasionally, to cast a slight gloom, but negatively what
enormous advantages his silence had! Romer never scolded, never laid
down the law; never thought it necessary to give her long, minute,
detailed accounts of his impressions of art, or life, or literature;
never insisted on pointing out, as if it were a matter of life and
death, precisely where he differed in his opinions of a book, a play, or
an incident, from the criticisms in the daily papers. Nor did he refer
to some annoying past incident half a dozen times a day as a sealed
subject. He had other qualities. He could take tickets, he could sign
cheques (and even seemed to like doing it). He could see about things.
He wasn't selfish. Yes, Valentia thought, when she saw Harry at his
worst, that perhaps she didn't really quite appreciate her