 abstinence from satirical observations, nay, her total
silence about his characteristics, a silence which Mrs. Davilow did not dare to
break. »Is he a man she would be happy with?« - was a question that inevitably
arose in the mother's mind. »Well, perhaps as happy as she would be with any one
else - or as most other women are« - was the answer with which she tried to
quiet herself; for she could not imagine Gwendolen under the influence of any
feeling which would make her satisfied in what we traditionally call »mean
circumstances.«
    Grandcourt's own thought was looking in the same direction: he wanted to
have done with the uncertainty that belonged to his not having spoken. As to any
further uncertainty - well, it was something without any reasonable basis, some
quality in the air which acted as an irritant to his wishes.
    Gwendolen enjoyed the riding, but her pleasure did not break forth in
girlish unpremeditated chat and laughter as it did on that morning with Rex. She
spoke a little, and even laughed, but with a lightness as of a far-off echo: for
her too there was some peculiar quality in the air - not, she was sure, any
subjugation of her will by Mr. Grandcourt, and the splendid prospects he meant
to offer her; for Gwendolen desired every one, that dignified gentleman himself
included, to understand that she was going to do just as she liked, and that
they had better not calculate on her pleasing them. If she chose to take this
husband, she would have him know that she was not going to renounce her freedom,
or according to her favourite formula, »not going to do as other women did.«
    Grandcourt's speeches this morning were, as usual, all of that brief sort
which never fails to make a conversational figure when the speaker is held
important in his circle. Stopping so soon, they give signs of a suppressed and
formidable ability to say more, and have also the meritorious quality of
allowing lengthiness to others.
    »How do you like Criterion's paces?« he said, after they had entered the
park and were slackening from a canter to a walk.
    »He is delightful to ride. I should like to have a leap with him, if it
would not frighten mamma. There was a good wide channel we passed five minutes
ago. I should like to have a gallop back and take it.«
    »Pray do. We can take it together.«
    »No, thanks. Mamma is so timid - if she
