 ordinary civility.
    »It was, in fact. I should have asked you to let me have your company for an
hour to-day, as it is practically your last in Rome; but I was not sure that you
would grant it, so I took my chance instead.«
    She waited a moment before replying.
    »I am afraid you refer to your invitation of a few days ago. I didn't feel
in the mood for going to a studio, Mr. Mallard.«
    »Yes, I was thinking of that. You refused in a way not quite like yourself.
I began to be afraid that you thought me too regardless of forms.«
    His return had gratified her; it was unexpected, and she set her face in a
hard expression that it might not betray her sudden gladness. But the look of
thinly-masked resentment which succeeded told of what had been in her mind since
she encountered him in the company of Cecily. That jealous pain was
uncontrollable; the most trivial occasions had kept exciting it, and now it made
her sick at heart. The effort to speak conventionally was all but beyond her
strength.
    They had in common that personal diffidence which is one of the phases of
pride, and which proves so fruitful a source of misunderstandings. For all her
self-esteem, Miriam could not obtain the conviction that, as a woman, she
strongly interested Mallard; and the artist found it very hard to persuade
himself that Miriam thought of him as anything but a man of some talent, whose
attention was agreeable, and perhaps a little flattering. Still, he could not
but notice that her changed behaviour connected itself with Cecily's arrival. It
seemed to him extraordinary, almost incredible, that she should be jealous of
his relations with her sister-in-law. Had she divined his passion for Cecily at
Naples? (He cherished a delusion that the secret had never escaped him.) But to
attribute jealousy to her was to assume that she set a high value on his
friendship.
    Miriam had glanced at the Apollo as he spoke. Conscious of his eyes upon
her, she looked away, saying in a forced tone:
    »I had no such thought. You misunderstood me.«
    »It was all my fault, then, and I am sorry for it. You said just now that
you preferred to be alone. I shall come to the hotel to-morrow, just to say
good-bye.«
    He rose; and Miriam, as she did the same, asked formally:
    »You are still uncertain how
