His face was that of a much older man
than our earlier friend. "I'm sure it's something I shan't like," he
said rather loudly.

"No, I don't think you'll like it. If you did it would be no favour."

"Well, let's hear it," he went on in the tone of a man quite conscious
of his patience.

"You may say there's no particular reason why you should do me a favour.
Indeed I only know of one: the fact that if you'd let me I'd gladly do
you one." Her soft, exact tone, in which there was no attempt at effect,
had an extreme sincerity; and her companion, though he presented rather
a hard surface, couldn't help being touched by it. When he was touched
he rarely showed it, however, by the usual signs; he neither blushed,
nor looked away, nor looked conscious. He only fixed his attention more
directly; he seemed to consider with added firmness. Henrietta continued
therefore disinterestedly, without the sense of an advantage. "I may say
now, indeed--it seems a good time--that if I've ever annoyed you (and
I think sometimes I have) it's because I knew I was willing to suffer
annoyance for you. I've troubled you--doubtless. But I'd TAKE trouble
for you."

Goodwood hesitated. "You're taking trouble now."

"Yes, I am--some. I want you to consider whether it's better on the
whole that you should go to Rome."

"I thought you were going to say that!" he answered rather artlessly.

"You HAVE considered it then?"

"Of course I have, very carefully. I've looked all round it. Otherwise
I shouldn't have come so far as this. That's what I stayed in Paris two
months for. I was thinking it over."

"I'm afraid you decided as you liked. You decided it was best because
you were so much attracted."

"Best for whom, do you mean?" Goodwood demanded.

"Well, for yourself first. For Mrs. Osmond next."

"Oh, it won't do HER any good! I don't flatter myself that."

"Won't it do her some harm?--that's the question."

"I don't see what it will matter to her. I'm nothing to Mrs. Osmond. But
if you want to know, I do want to see her myself."

"Yes, and that's why you go."

"Of course it is. Could there be a better reason?"

"How will it help you?--that's what I want to know," said Miss
Stackpole.

"That's just what I can't tell you. It's just what I was thinking about
in Paris."

"It will make you more discontented."

"Why do you say 'more' so?" Goodwood asked rather sternly. "How do you
know I'm discontented?"

"Well," said Henrietta,