CONFIDENCE
"You must have an extraordinary power of abstracting your mind," Bernard said to her, observing it. "Studying philosophy at the Baden Kursaal strikes me as a real intellectual feat."
"Don't you think we need a little philosophy here?"
"By all means—what we bring with us. But I shouldn't attempt the use of the text-book on the spot."
"You shouldn't speak of yourself as if you were not clever," said Mrs. Vivian. "Every one says you are so very clever."
Longueville stared; there was an unexpectedness in this speech and an incongruity in Mrs. Vivian's beginning to flatter him. He needed to remind himself that if she was a Bostonian she was a Bostonian perverted.
"Ah, my dear madam, every one is no one," he said, laughing.
"It was Mr. Wright in particular," she rejoined. "He has always told us that."
"He is blinded by friendship."
"Ah yes, we know about your friendship," said Mrs. Vivian. "He has told us about that."
"You are making him out a terrible talker!"
"We think he talks so well—we are so very fond of his conversation."
"It is usually excellent," said Bernard. "But it depends a good deal on the subject."
"Oh," rejoined Mrs. Vivian, "we always let him choose his subjects." And dropping her eyes, as if in sudden reflexion, she began to smooth down the crumpled corner of her volume.
It occurred to Bernard that—by some mysterious impulse—she was suddenly presenting him with a chance to ask her the question that Blanche Evers had just suggested. Two or three other things as
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