 she looked very grave. »What a singular
answer to my question!«
    »Oh, it isn't an answer,« said Acton. »I have wished to ask you, many times.
I thought it probable you would tell me yourself. The question, on my part,
seems abrupt now; but it would be abrupt at any time.«
    The Baroness was silent a moment; and then, »I think I have told you too
much!« she said.
    This declaration appeared to Acton to have a certain force; he had indeed a
sense of asking more of her than he offered her. He returned to the window, and
watched, for a moment, a little star that twinkled through the lattice of the
piazza. There were at any rate offers enough he could make; perhaps he had
hitherto not been sufficiently explicit in doing so. »I wish you would ask
something of me,« he presently said. »Is there nothing I can do for you? If you
can't stand this dull life any more, let me amuse you!«
    The Baroness had sunk once more into a chair, and she had taken up a fan
which she held, with both hands, to her mouth. Over the top of the fan her eyes
were fixed on him. »You are very strange to-night,« she said, with a little
laugh.
    »I will do anything in the world,« he rejoined, standing in front of her.
»Shouldn't you like to travel about and see something of the country? Won't you
go to Niagara? You ought to see Niagara, you know.«
    »With you, do you mean?«
    »I should be delighted to take you.«
    »You alone?«
    Acton looked at her, smiling, and yet with a serious air. »Well, yes; we
might go alone,« he said.
    »If you were not what you are,« she answered, »I should feel insulted.«
    »How do you mean - what I am?«
    »If you were one of the gentlemen I have been used to all my life. If you
were not a queer Bostonian.«
    »If the gentlemen you have been used to have taught you to expect insults,«
said Acton, »I am glad I am what I am. You had much better come to Niagara.«
    »If you wish to amuse me,« the Baroness declared, »you need go to no further
expense. You amuse me very effectually
