for three days I have been putting it off. They
must think me horribly vicious."

"You ask me to apologize," said Acton, "but you don't tell me what
excuse I can offer."

"That is more," the Baroness declared, "than I am held to. It would be
like my asking you to buy me a bouquet and giving you the money. I have
no reason except that--somehow--it 's too violent an effort. It is not
inspiring. Would n't that serve as an excuse, in Boston? I am told they
are very sincere; they don't tell fibs. And then Felix ought to go with
me, and he is never in readiness. I don't see him. He is always roaming
about the fields and sketching old barns, or taking ten-mile walks, or
painting some one's portrait, or rowing on the pond, or flirting with
Gertrude Wentworth."

"I should think it would amuse you to go and see a few people," said
Acton. "You are having a very quiet time of it here. It 's a dull life
for you."

"Ah, the quiet,--the quiet!" the Baroness exclaimed. "That 's what I
like. It 's rest. That 's what I came here for. Amusement? I have had
amusement. And as for seeing people--I have already seen a great many
in my life. If it did n't sound ungracious I should say that I wish very
humbly your people here would leave me alone!"

Acton looked at her a moment, and she looked at him. She was a woman who
took being looked at remarkably well. "So you have come here for rest?"
he asked.

"So I may say. I came for many of those reasons that are no
reasons--don't you know?--and yet that are really the best: to come
away, to change, to break with everything. When once one comes away one
must arrive somewhere, and I asked myself why I should n't arrive here."

"You certainly had time on the way!" said Acton, laughing.

Madame Munster looked at him again; and then, smiling: "And I have
certainly had time, since I got here, to ask myself why I came. However,
I never ask myself idle questions. Here I am, and it seems to me you
ought only to thank me."

"When you go away you will see the difficulties I shall put in your
path."

"You mean to put difficulties in my path?" she asked, rearranging the
rosebud in her corsage.

"The greatest of all--that of having been so agreeable"--

"That I shall be unable to depart? Don't be too sure. I have left some
very agreeable people over there."

"Ah," said Acton, "but it was to come here, where I am!"

"I did n't know of your existence. Excuse me for saying anything so
rude; but,