RODERICK HUDSON
"I've no practical occupation," said Rowland, "and yet I 've kept, I think, from growing absolutely limp."
"I don't call you at all unoccupied," Mary Garland declared.
"It 's very good of you. Do you remember our talking about that at Northampton?"
"During that walk in the woods? Perfectly. Has your coming abroad succeeded for yourself as well as you hoped?"
"I think I may say that it has turned out as well as I expected."
"Are you very happy?"
"Don't I look so?"
"So it seems to me. But"—and she hesitated a moment—"I imagine you look happy whether you 're so or not."
"I'm like that ancient comic mask that we saw just now in yonder excavated fresco; I 'm made to grin."
"Shall you come back here next winter?" she went on without heed of this.
"Very probably."
"Are you settled for ever?"
"'For ever' is a long time. I live only from year to year."
"Shall you never marry?"
Rowland gave a laugh. "'For ever'—'never'! You go in for big figures. I 've taken no monastic vow."
"Should n't you like to have a home?"
"You mean in the American sense?" And then as
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