 but does Mrs. Grandcourt know of all this?«
    »No; and I must beg of you, Hans,« said Deronda, rather angrily, »to cease
joking on that subject. Any notions you have are wide of the truth - are the
very reverse of the truth.«
    »I am no more inclined to joke than I shall be at my own funeral,« said
Hans. »But I am not at all sure that you are aware what are my notions on that
subject.«
    »Perhaps not,« said Deronda. »But let me say, once for all, that in relation
to Mrs. Grandcourt, I never have had, and never shall have, the position of a
lover. If you have ever seriously put that interpretation on anything you have
observed, you are supremely mistaken.«
    There was silence a little while, and to each the silence was like an
irritating air, exaggerating discomfort.
    »Perhaps I have been mistaken in another interpretation also,« said Hans,
presently.
    »What is that?«
    »That you had no wish to hold the position of a lover towards another woman,
who is neither wife nor widow.«
    »I can't pretend not to understand you, Meyrick. It is painful that our
wishes should clash. But I hope you will tell me if you have any ground for
supposing that you would succeed.«
    »That seems rather a superfluous inquiry on your part, Deronda,« said Hans,
with some irritation.
    »Why superfluous?«
    »Because you are perfectly convinced on the subject - and probably you have
had the very best evidence to convince you.«
    »I will be more frank with you than you are with me,« said Deronda, still
heated by Hans's show of temper, and yet sorry for him. »I have never had the
slightest evidence that I should succeed myself. In fact, I have very little
hope.«
    Hans looked round hastily at his friend, but immediately turned to his
picture again.
    »And in our present situation,« said Deronda, hurt by the idea that Hans
suspected him of insincerity, and giving an offended emphasis to his words, »I
don't see how I can deliberately make known my feeling to her. If she could not
return it, I should have embittered her best comfort, for neither she nor I can
be parted from her brother, and we should have to meet continually. If I were to
cause her that sort of pain by an unwilling betrayal of my feeling, I should be
