itting
the fact and expressing some curiosity as to how she had learned it, she
said she had heard all about Mrs. Costello from the chambermaid. She was
very quiet and very comme il faut; she wore white puffs; she spoke to no
one, and she never dined at the table d'hote. Every two days she had a
headache. "I think that's a lovely description, headache and all!" said
Miss Daisy, chattering along in her thin, gay voice. "I want to know her
ever so much. I know just what YOUR aunt would be; I know I should like
her. She would be very exclusive. I like a lady to be exclusive; I'm
dying to be exclusive myself. Well, we ARE exclusive, mother and I. We
don't speak to everyone--or they don't speak to us. I suppose it's about
the same thing. Anyway, I shall be ever so glad to know your aunt."

Winterbourne was embarrassed. "She would be most happy," he said; "but I
am afraid those headaches will interfere."

The young girl looked at him through the dusk. "But I suppose she
doesn't have a headache every day," she said sympathetically.

Winterbourne was silent a moment. "She tells me she does," he answered
at last, not knowing what to say.

Miss Daisy Miller stopped and stood looking at him. Her prettiness was
still visible in the darkness; she was opening and closing her enormous
fan. "She doesn't want to know me!" she said suddenly. "Why don't you
say so? You needn't be afraid. I'm not afraid!" And she gave a little
laugh.

Winterbourne fancied there was a tremor in her voice; he was touched,
shocked, mortified by it. "My dear young lady," he protested, "she knows
no one. It's her wretched health."

The young girl walked on a few steps, laughing still. "You needn't be
afraid," she repeated. "Why should she want to know me?" Then she paused
again; she was close to the parapet of the garden, and in front of her
was the starlit lake. There was a vague sheen upon its surface, and in
the distance were dimly seen mountain forms. Daisy Miller looked out
upon the mysterious prospect and then she gave another little laugh.
"Gracious! she IS exclusive!" she said. Winterbourne wondered whether
she was seriously wounded, and for a moment almost wished that her sense
of injury might be such as to make it becoming in him to attempt to
reassure and comfort her. He had a pleasant sense that she would be very
approachable for consolatory purposes. He felt then, for the instant,
quite ready to sacrifice his aunt, conversationally; to admit