ute that the
oddity of the image could draw from him no natural sound. The Duchess
once more, accordingly, recognised an occasion. "It has doubtless
already occurred to you that, since your sentiment for the living is
the charming fruit of your sentiment for the dead, there would be a
sacrifice to Lady Julia's memory more exquisite than any other."

At this finally Mr. Longdon turned. "The effort--on the lines you speak
of--for Nanda's happiness?"

She fairly glowed with hope. "And by the same token such a piece of
poetic justice! Quite the loveliest it would be, I think, one had ever
heard of."

So, for some time more, they sat confronted. "I don't quite see your
difficulty," he said at last. "I do happen to know, I confess, that
Nanda herself extremely desires the execution of your project."

His friend's smile betrayed no surprise at this effect of her eloquence.
"You're bad at dodging. Nanda's desire is inevitably to stop off for
herself every question of any one but Vanderbank. If she wants me to
succeed in arranging with Mr. Mitchett can you ask for a plainer sign
of her private predicament? But you've signs enough, I see"--she caught
herself up: "we may take them all for granted. I've known perfectly from
the first that the only difficulty would come from her mother--but also
that that would be stiff."

The movement with which Mr. Longdon removed his glasses might have
denoted a certain fear to participate in too much of what the Duchess
had known. "I've not been ignorant that Mrs. Brookenham favours Mr.
Mitchett."

But he was not to be let off with that. "Then you've not been blind, I
suppose, to her reason for doing so." He might not have been blind, but
his vision, at this, scarce showed sharpness, and it determined in his
interlocutress the shortest of short cuts. "She favours Mr. Mitchett
because she wants 'old Van' herself."

He was evidently conscious of looking at her hard. "In what
sense--herself?"

"Ah you must supply the sense; I can give you only the fact--and it's
the fact that concerns us. Voyons" she almost impatiently broke out;
"don't try to create unnecessary obscurities by being unnecessarily
modest. Besides, I'm not touching your modesty. Supply any sense
whatever that may miraculously satisfy your fond English imagination:
I don't insist in the least on a bad one. She does want him
herself--that's all I say. 'Pourquoi faires' you ask--or rather, being
too shy, don't ask, but would