RODERICK HUDSON
I saw you admired her and I knew that if you admired her she must have every virtue under heaven. That 's what you require."
"Upon my word," he declared, "you make three words go very far!"
"Oh, Mr. Hudson has also spoken of her."
"Ah, that's better!" said Rowland.
"I don't know. He does n't like her."
"Has he told you so?" The question left Rowland's lips before he could stay it—which he would have done on a moment's reflexion.
Christina looked at him intently. "Not in so many words," she said at last. "That would have been dishonourable, would n't it? But I know it from my knowledge of him. He does n't like perfection; he 's not bent on being so awfully safe and sound in his likings; he 's willing to risk something! Poor dear man, he risks too much!"
Rowland was silent; he did n't care for the thrust, but he was profoundly mystified. Christina beckoned to her poodle, and the dog marched stiffly across to her. She gave a loving twist to his rose-coloured top-knot and bade him go and fetch her burnous. He obeyed, gathered it up in his teeth and returned with great solemnity, dragging it along the floor.
"I do her justice. I do her full justice." She wonderfully kept it up. "I like to say that, I like to be able to say it. She 's full of intelligence and courage and devotion. She does n't do me a grain of justice; but that 's no harm—I mean above all no harm to her. There 's something so noble in the aversions of a good woman!"
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