"You have considered it, then?"
"Of course I have, very carefully. I have looked all round it. Otherwise I shouldn't have come as far as this. That's what I stayed in Paris two months for; I was thinking it over."
"I am afraid you decided as you liked. You decided it was best, because you were so much attracted."
"Best for whom, do you mean?" Goodwood inquired.
"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 harm?—that's the question."
"I don't see what it will matter to her. I am 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 am 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 to tell you what I think; I had it on my mind. Of course you think it's none of my business. But nothing is any one's business, on that principle."
