er bare arm emerged from her hanging sleeve, and, with her eyes
glancing upward from under her lowered brows, she smiled at her two
spectators. Her husband laid his hand on Bernard's arm.

"Is n't she pretty?" he cried; and he spoke with a sort of tender
delight in being sure at least of this point.

"Tremendously pretty!" said Bernard. "I told her so half an hour before
you came in."

"Ah, it was time I should arrive!" Gordon exclaimed.

Blanche was manifestly not in the least discomposed by this frank
discussion of her charms, for the air of distinguished esteem adopted by
both of her companions diminished the crudity of their remarks. But
she gave a little pout of irritated modesty--it was more becoming than
anything she had done yet--and declared that if they wished to talk her
over, they were very welcome; but she should prefer their waiting till
she got out of the room. So she left them, reminding Bernard that he
was to send for his luggage and remain, and promising to give immediate
orders for the preparation of his apartment. Bernard opened the door for
her to pass out; she gave him a charming nod as he stood there, and
he turned back to Gordon with the reflection of her smile in his face.
Gordon was watching him; Gordon was dying to know what he thought of
her. It was a curious mania of Gordon's, this wanting to know what one
thought of the women he loved; but Bernard just now felt abundantly able
to humor it. He was so pleased at seeing him tightly married.

"She 's a delightful creature," Bernard said, with cordial vagueness,
shaking hands with his friend again.

Gordon glanced at him a moment, and then, coloring a little, looked
straight out of the window; whereupon Bernard remembered that these were
just the terms in which, at Baden, after his companion's absence, he
had attempted to qualify Angela Vivian. Gordon was conscious--he was
conscious of the oddity of his situation.

"Of course it surprised you," he said, in a moment, still looking out of
the window.

"What, my dear fellow?"

"My marriage."

"Well, you know," said Bernard, "everything surprises me. I am of a very
conjectural habit of mind. All sorts of ideas come into my head, and yet
when the simplest things happen I am always rather startled. I live in a
reverie, and I am perpetually waked up by people doing things."

Gordon transferred his eyes from the window to Bernard's face--to his
whole person.

"You are waked up? But you fa