 to consider with added firmness. Henrietta continued therefore disinterestedly, without the sense of an advantage. "I may say now, indeed—it seems a good time—that if I've ever annoyed you (and I think sometimes I have) it's because I knew I was willing to suffer annoyance for you. I've troubled you—doubtless. But I'd TAKE trouble for you."
Goodwood hesitated. "You're taking trouble now."
"Yes, I am—some. I want you to consider whether it's better on the whole that you should go to Rome."
"I thought you were going to say that!" he answered rather artlessly.
"You HAVE considered it then?"
"Of course I have, very carefully. I've looked all round it. Otherwise I shouldn't have come so far as this. That's what I stayed in Paris two months for. I was thinking it over."
"I'm afraid you decided as you liked. You decided it was best because you were so much attracted."
"Best for whom, do you mean?" Goodwood demanded.
"Well, for yourself first. For Mrs. Osmond next."
"Oh, it won't do HER any good! I don't flatter myself that."
"Won't it do her some harm?—that's the question."
"I don't see what it will matter to her. I'm nothing to Mrs. Osmond. But if you want to know, I do want to see her myself."
"Yes, and that's why you go."
"Of course it is. Could there be a better reason?"
"How will it help you?—that's what I want to know," said Miss Stackpole.
"That's just what I can't tell you. It's just what I was thinking about in Paris."
"It will make you more discontented."
"Why do you say 'more' so?" Goodwood asked rather sternly. "How do you know I'm discontented?"
"Well," said Henrietta, hesitating a little, "you seem never to have cared for another."
"How do you know what I care for?" he cried with a big blush. "Just now I care to go to Rome."
Henrietta looked at him in silence, with a sad yet luminous expression. "Well," she observed at last, "I only wanted
