Olive (there seemed to be so much crowded into that
one day), smoothing her light gloves, wishing her fan were a little
nicer, and proving by the answering, familiar brightness with which she
looked out on the lamp-lighted streets that, whatever theory might be
entertained as to the genesis of her talent and her personal nature, the
blood of the lecture-going, night-walking Tarrants did distinctly flow
in her veins; as the pair proceeded, I say, to the celebrated
restaurant, at the door of which Mr. Burrage had promised to be in
vigilant expectancy of their carriage, Verena found a sufficiently gay
and natural tone of voice for remarking to her friend that Mr. Ransom
had called upon her while they were out, and had left a note in which
there were many compliments for Miss Chancellor.

"That's wholly your own affair, my dear," Olive replied, with a
melancholy sigh, gazing down the vista of Fourteenth Street (which they
happened just then to be traversing, with much agitation), toward the
queer barrier of the elevated railway.

It was nothing new to Verena that if the great striving of Olive's life
was for justice she yet sometimes failed to arrive at it in particular
cases; and she reflected that it was rather late for her to say, like
that, that Basil Ransom's letters were only his correspondent's
business. Had not his kinswoman quite made the subject her own during
their drive that afternoon? Verena determined now that her companion
should hear all there was to be heard about the letter; asking herself
whether, if she told her at present more than she cared to know, it
wouldn't make up for her hitherto having told her less. "He brought it
with him, written, in case I should be out. He wants to see me
to-morrow--he says he has ever so much to say to me. He proposes an
hour--says he hopes it won't be inconvenient for me to see him about
eleven in the morning; thinks I may have no other engagement so early as
that. Of course our return to Boston settles it," Verena added, with
serenity.

Miss Chancellor said nothing for a moment; then she replied, "Yes,
unless you invite him to come on with you in the train."

"Why, Olive, how bitter you are!" Verena exclaimed, in genuine surprise.

Olive could not justify her bitterness by saying that her companion had
spoken as if she were disappointed, because Verena had not. So she
simply remarked, "I don't see what he can have to say to you--that would
be worth your hearing."